TESTIMONIALS. 

The  story  is  bused  upon  facts,  and  the  author  gives  only 
the.  result  of  her  own  observation.  The  story  is  a  sad  one,  as. 
any  story  dealing  with  the  dark  side  of  human  nature  must 
necessarily  be,  but  it  is  written  sympathetically  with  sugges- 
tions of  rebuke  and  encouragement. 

THE  NORTHWESTERN  CHRISTIAN  ADVOCATE. 

After  a  careful  reading  of  "Suffering  Millions"  I  am  per- 
suaded that  the  author  took  up  the  burden  of  the  pen  and  pub- 
lished her  work,  hoping  that  she  might  reach  many  disinterested 
hearts  in  behalf  of  the  children  of  fallen  parents,  and  thus  ac- 
complish the  mission  to  which  she  believes  herself  called. 
PRESIDENT  WOMAN'S  INDUSTRIAL  HOME, 
Bloomington,  111. 

The  author  has  given  helpful  words  to  many  a  hungry 
soul,  and  the  worries  and  trials  of  life  will  be  lighter  to  many 
after  perusing  the  book.  ALICE  B.  STOCKHAM,  M.  D., 

Author  of  Tokology. 

The  author  is  tilling  new  soil  in  the  literary  world,  which 
will  reap  a  rich  harvest  for  children  yet  unborn. 

EDITOR,  CHICAGO, 

There  are  a  great,  great  many  good  things  in  the  book, 
which  will  be  a  blessing  to  the  world. 

EDITOR  INTER  OCEAN. 

The  work  is  an  inspiration  and  should  be  read  by  millions. 

P.  ANNETTA  PECKHAM, 

Author  of  Welded  Links  and  Poems. 

Syracuse,  N.  Y. 


y 


TZHZIE 


Suffering  Millions 


By  ROSETTA  OTWELL  CROSS. 


EDITED  BY  A  GRADUATE  OF  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  MICHIGAN. 


ANN  ARBOR,  MICH.: 

THE  COURIER  OFFICE,   PRINTERS. 

1890. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1890, 

BY  ROSETTA  OTWELL  CROSS. 
In  tbe  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


PREFACE, 


THE  author,  after  a  painful  observation  of  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  was  drawn  to  write  this  sad  story, 
hoping  by  the  sale  of  the  book  to  help  educate  and  elevate 
the  children  of  unworthy  parents.  Those  of  us  who  enjoy 
comfortable  homes,  finding  father  and  mother  but  syno- 
nyms of  love  and  protection,  can  hardly  be  brought  to  real- 
ize what  demons  in  human  garb  stalk  through  the  homes 
of  some  of  the  children  of  the  land. 

Rev.  T.  Dewitt  Talmadge,  in  one  of  his  sermons,  said : 
"  The  children  of  besotted  parents  are  worse  off  than  the 
orphan.  Look  at  the  pale  cheek,  woe  bleached  it.  Look 
at  that  gash  across  the  forehead,  a  drunken  father  struck 
it  there.  Hear  that  heart-piercing  cry,  a  fallen  mother's 
blasphemy  compelled  it.  The  ranks  of  an  army  of  neg- 
lected children  are  being  filled  up  from  all  the  homes  of 
iniquity  and  shame.  The  death-knell  has  already  begun 
to  toll,  and  the  angels  of  God  hover  like  birds  over  the 
plunge  of  a  cataract.  While  such  children  are  on  the  brink 
they  halt,  and  throw  out  their  hands,  and  cry  :  '  help  !  help  !' 
0.  Church  of  God,  will  you  help?" 

As  the  author  of  this  very  sad  story,  I  feel  to  make  an 
apology.  No  doubt  my  readers  will  think  me  cold  and 
cruel,  and  possessing  no  true  respect  for  a  mother.  But,  in- 
deed, such  is  not  the  case.  My  own  dear  mother's  image 
is  fresh  in  my  mind,  although  many  years  have  passed 
since  she  died,  I  remember  her  with  a  sweet  smile  and 
a  soft,  cheerful  voice.  I  now  remember  standing  by  her 
side  and  listening  to  her  tender,  earnest  reproof.  Me- 


2073064 


4  Preface. 

thinks  I  can  now  see  her  loving  face,  and  ijt-  is  because  I 
saw  almost  perfection  in  her  that  I  realize  the  importance 
of  a  mother's  God-given  work — yet  few,  comparatively,  seem 
to  realize  the  importance  of  their  mission.  And  now  while 
darling  little  ones  play  around  ray  own  door,  I  fully  realize 
my  important  duty.  Oh,  may  I  have  mind  and  strength 
to  perform  my  task  aright.  But  yet  my  heart  bleeds,  not 
for  Lulu  Montroville  alone,  but  for  the  thousands  of  helpless 
children  in  homes  illy  kept,  who  have  no  kind  relative  to 
raise  them  from  sorrow  and  disgrace ;  without  one  ray  of 
encouragement  to  battle  with  the  trials  of  life.  "Ah,  yes," 
says  one,  "  Where  there  is  a  will  there  is  a  way."  But 
tell  me,  pray,  where  is  the  way  for  the  child  of  a  dissipated 
parent,  who  barely  provides  bread?  How  can  the  child 
who  has  no  early  advantages,  who  has  to  wrestle  with  pov- 
erty and  want,  besides  having  a  parent  who  by  life  and 
conduct  daily  drags  his  children  down,  be  expected  to  have 
the  knowledge  and  the  will-power  necessary  to  succeed  in 
an  attempt  to  elevate  himself  from  th»  position  in  which 
he  is  by  such  circumstances  placed.  Hard,  indeed,  it  is 
for  a  youth  to  be  pointed  out  as  the  son  of  a  drunkard, 
or  the  daughter  of  a  mother  of  disgraceful  character.  Al- 
though sad,  yet  it  is  nevertheless  true,  that  there  are  many 
children  who  have  both  sides  of  this  question  to  face. 
Methinks  I  can  almost  feel  their  little  hearts  beat,  and  see 
the  tears  trickle  down  their  cheeks,  while  they  are  sur- 
rounded by  the  children  of  worthy  parents  who  have  m6re 
than  they  need. 


CHAPTER  I, 


Whilst  I  alone  did  call  upon  thy  aid, 

My  verse  alone  had  all  thy  gentle  grace  ; 
But  now  my  gracious  numbers  are  decay'd 

And  my  sick  muse  doth  give  another  place. 
I  grant,  sweet  love,  thy  lovely  argument 

Deserves  the  travail  of  a  worthier  pen ; 
Yet  what  of  thee  thy  poet  doth  invent, 

He  robs  thee  of,  and  pays  it  thee  again, 
He  lends  thee  virtue,  and  he  stole  that  word 

From  thy  behavior;  beauty  doth  he  give, 
And  found  it  in  thy  cheek ;  he  can  afford 

No  praise  to  thee  but  what  in  thee  doth  live, 
Then,  thank  him  not  for  that  which  he  doth  say 

Since  what  he  owes  thee,  thou  thyself  dost  pay. 

— Shakespeare. 

In  some  way,  my  mind  has  to-day  wandered 
back  to  a  visit  I  made  many  years  ago.  At  that 
time  my  health  was  quite  poor,  and  I  had  been 
trying  the  air  of  different  countries.  I  happened 
to  meet  an  old  acquaintance  once  or  twice  with 
whom  I  spent  a  short  time. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry,  a  gentleman  at 
whose  house  I  was  visiting,  "  there  are  some  new 
comers  that  have  moved  into  our  neighborhood, 
would  you  not  like  to  go  with  wife  and  I  this  after- 
noon and  call  upon  them  ?" 


6  Suffering  Millions. 

"  I  think  no  doubt  it  would  be  pleasant  to  do  so," 
said  I. 

After  dinner  Mr.  Bradberry  said  to  his  sons, 
"  saddle  the  horses,  and  we  will  call  upon  our  new 
neighbors." 

As  we  were  on  our  way,  Mr.  Bradberry  said, 
"  in  some  way  I  feel  a  peculiar  interest  in  Mr. 
Montroville,  which,  by  the  way,  is  our  new  neigh- 
bor's name." 

As  we  came  in  sight  of  the  residence,  which  I 
saw  to  be  newly  built,  I  observed  that  there  was 
only  a  small  clearing  around  the  house.  As  we 
drew  near  a  gentlemanly-looking  man  came  out  of 
the  house  to  meet  us. 

kt  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Bradberry, "said  he, "  glad 
to  see  you.  Will  you  not  alight  from  your  horses?" 

"  I  think  we  will,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry.  "  We 
have  a  friend  visiting  us  whom  1  thought  you 
might  be  glad  to  meet." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Montroville,  "  we  will  be 
glad  to  form  new  acquaintances,  as  we  are  very 
lonely  in  our  new  home." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry,  turning  to  me, 
t;  this  is  Miss  Atwood,  an  intimate  friend  of  my 
wife." 

u  Glad  to  meet  you,"  said  Mr.  Montroville, 
"  corne  now  into  the  house." 

After  being  made  acquainted  with  the  family, 
Mr.  Bradberry  said, "  wel),  friend  Montroville.  you 
seem  to  be  very  pleasantly  situated  in  your  new 
home." 


Suffering  Millions.  1 

At  this  remark  of  Mr.  Bradberry's  I  saw  the 
color  mount  to  Mr.  Montroville's  face. 

"  Well,"  said  ho,  "  we  try  to  make  it  as  pleasant 
as  possible." 

I  now  noticed  what  a  fine,  noble,  and  intelligent 
looking  man  he  was.  I  at  once  read  in  his  looks 
that  he  had  known  better  days,  and  that  he  was 
somewhat  embarrassed  at  his  surroundings.  Mrs. 
Montroville  appeared  more  at  ease.  She  seemed 
to  be  a  good-hearted  woman,  but  I  was  somewhat 
amused  at  her  peculiar  vocabulary.  Although 
strange  to  me,  yet  I  knew  it  must  be  her  native 
dialect. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry,  "  I  met  a 
man  the  other  day  that  had  known  you  years  ago." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Montroville,  who  could  he 
have  been,  and  why  did  he  not  come  to  see  me?" 

"  Oh !"  said  Mr.  Bradberry,  "  it  was  when  1  was 
in  Cincinnati.  I  believe  he  called  his  name 
Bryant." 

"  Oh !  indeed,  was  it  he  ?"  said  Mr.  Montroville. 

"  He  seemed  very  much  astonished  to  hear  you 
were  living  here." 

"  I  suppose  he  was,"  said  Mr.  Montroville. 

"  He  thought."  said  Mr.  Bradberry,  "  you  were 
in  a  far  away  country." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Montroville,  "  when  I  last  saw 
him  I  was  in  far  different  circumstances." 

"  So  he  told  me,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry. 

"  When  I  sold  my  property  it  was  my  intention 


8  Suffering  Millions. 

to  go  to  another  country,"  was  the  reply.  "  Little 
did  I  think  I  should  ever  come  to  this.  But  there 
arose  against  it,  as  it  were,  a  tempestuous  wind. 
No  doubt  if  I  had  gone  I  would  now  have  been 
well  situated." 

•  "  Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry,  "  the  winds 
were  God's  messengers." 

"  No,  indeed,  rather  do  I  believe  they  were  the 
messengers  of  the  evil  one." 

"But,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry,  "  God  does  not  wish 
us  to  despair." 

"  Well,"  replied  Mr.  Montroville,  "  how  easy  it 
is  to  be  cheerful  in  the  sunlight.  How  hard  it  is 
to  be  bright  in  a  dark  day.  No,  indeed,  God's 
messengers  never  brought  me  here.  Everything 
has  gone  wrong  with  me  since  I  came  here.  No, 
the  dear  messengers  of  God,  1  do  believe,  did  at  one 
time  call  me  to  labor  in  his  vineyard,  but  1  heeded 
not  the  call." 

"  Why  did  you  not  do  as  God  commanded  you  ?" 

u  Well,  I  must  acknowledge  my  mind  was  drawn 
away  by  the  vanities  of  the  world — I,  being  some- 
what ambitious  to  gain  wealth  and  a  position  in 
the  world  so  I  might  better  provide  for  my  chil- 
dren. But  now  I  fully  realize  the  change  has 
been  one  that  will  involve  my  family  in  sorrow 
and  suffering." 

"  Why  do  you  thus  think  ?" 

"  I  fully  understand  now,  that  it  was  unfaithful- 
ness on  my  part  not  to  heed  God's  call.  No,  I 


Suffering  Millions.  9 

can  now  never  view  the  promised  land  that  my 
blessed  Savior  had  intended  me  to  enjoy." 

I  saw  in  his  noble  face  a  look  of  dispair,  a 
wasted  talent,  one  of  God's  best  gifts  to  man.  I 
very  much  feared  he  was  as  was  one  of  old :  Matt. 
25  chap.  25  v.:  "And  I  was  afraid  and  went  and 
hid  thy  talent  in  the  earth:  Lo!  there  thou  hast 
that  is  thine."  Matt.  25-26: — "  For  unto  every 
one  that  hath  shall  be  given,  and  he  shall  have 
abundance ;  but  from  him  that  hath  not,  shall  be 
taken  away  even  that  which  he  hath." 

Shortly  after  our  arrival  a  lady  came  in  from 
another  room,  whom  Mrs.  Montroville  introduced 
as  Mrs.  Lovejoy,  and  whom  we  soon  found  out  was 
an  old  acquaintance  of  the  family.  As  my  cu- 
riosity was  aroused  I  was  quite  anxious  to  learn 
something  about  the  former  circumstances  of  Mr. 
Montroville  and  his  family. 

While  Mrs.  Montroville  was  busily  engaged  in 
making  some  arrangements  for  tea,  Mrs.  Lovejoy 
said,  "  I  have  known  Mr.  Montroville's  family  for 
many  years.  At  one  time,"  said  she,  u  Mr.  Mon- 
troville was  quite  wealthy,  having  farms,  horses, 
and  cattle,  and  enjoying  more  of  the  luxuries  of 
life  than  were  common  in  that  early  day,  but  he 
finally  became  interested  in  speculation  which 
wrought  his  financial  ruin.  Since  that  time  he 
has  never  been  the  same  man." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Bradberry,  "I  think  it  best 
for  men  who  are  comfortably  situated  to  let  well 
enough  alone." 


10  Suffering  Millions. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Lovejoy, "  I  know  it  is,  yet  you 
know  people  do  not  all  think  so." 

Just  then  Mrs.  Montroville  came  in  and  invited 
us  to  tea.  Shortly  after  this  we  took  our  de- 
parture. But  I  had  become  so  much  interested  in 
the  family  that  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  learn 
more  about  them. 


Suffering  Millions.  11 


CHAPTER  II, 


There  was  a  "  logging  "  at  Mr.  Sherman's.  These 
were  common  at  this  time.  Men  would  invite 
their  neighbors  to  help  in  rolling  logs  into  large 
heaps,  in  order  to  clear  up  the  land.  For  the  boys 
and  young  men  these  were  great  places  for  sport. 

"  Hurrah,"  said  Bill  Lawton, "  now  for  some  fun. 
We  now  ken  see,  arter  all,  who  is  the  smartest 
man.  Whoa!  gee!  ha  we!  you  poor  old  critter," 
said  he  to  his  large  red  oxen,  which  he  felt  very 
proud  of,  although  trying  to  pretend  to  the.  con- 
trary. They  were  the  finest  yoke  of  oxen  in  the 
whole  country,  and  considered  in  this  early  day,  as 
a  very  valuable  piece  of  property.  Now,  Bill  was 
a  good-hearted  fellow,  according  to  his  light,  which, 
however,  Was  not  great,  yet  he  deemed  it  very 
smart  to  talk  loud,  boistrous  and  commanding  to 
his  faithful  oxen.  "Wai.  boys,"  said  he,  uef  I 
was  you  I  would  begin  showin'  what  I  could  do ; 
jest  fly  in.  S'pose,  I  reckon,  you  are  thinkin'  'bout 
the  gals.  Jest  let  'em  alone  till  we  get  all  of  these 
logs  together,  then  to-night  at  the  kissin'  bee,  you 
can  do  all  of  the  smilin'  on  the  gals  you  wan'  to, 
which  ain't  railly  any  fun  for  me;  but  laws  a 
massy,  I  can  remember  when  I,  arter  all,  liked  to 
smack  a  purtty  gal's  lips  middlin'  well.  I  dunno 


12  Suffering  Millions. 

that  there  is  any  harm  in  it,  mebby  arter  all  it 
kindy  cheers  a  fellow  up  once  in  a  while." 

At  this  speech  of  Bill  Lawton,  there  was  a  shout 
of  "hip.  hip,  hurrah!'1  by  a  dozen  or  more  boys 
who  were  wild  with  the  love  of  sport. 

"Now,  Bill,"  said  one,  "if  you  do  not  mind, 
Fred  Brown's  oxen  will  do  more  work  than  yours." 

"  Not  much,  Whoa,  gee,  hawe,  Buck  and  Bright," 
said  Bill,  "  Arter  all,  not  wantin'  to  brag  on  these 
critters,  ef  any  one  thinks  they  have  a  yoke  that. 
can  do  half  as  much  work  I  would  like  to  see  them. 
'Mazin'  strange,  'mazin'  strange  how  much  they 
can  do."  The  shouts  of  the  boys  made  the  woods 
ring  with  the  melody  of  their  voices.  "Whoa, 
gee,  hawe,"  said  Bill,  as  he  rolled  together  one  or 
two  of  the  largest  logs. 

As  the  dinner  horn  sounded  there  was  a  general 
rush  of  the  hungry  men  and  boys  for  the  house, 
and  after  washing  the  coal  and  dust  from  their 
hands  and  faces  they  gathered  around  the  dinner 
table. 

"Well,"  said  Billy  Lawton,  "I  s'pose  you  all 
know  who  done  the  most  loggin';  bimby,  I  reckon, 
you  know  who'll  do  the  most  at  the  table." 

"Well,"  said  Captain  Carlton,  a  man  of  action 
as  well  as  thought,  "  Bill,  I  suppose  you  are  capa- 
ble of  doing  justice  to  both." 

"I  reckon  so,"  said  Bill  as  he  handed  his  cup 
for  some  more  coffee. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  young  Preston,  '•  have  any 
of  you  heard  of  the  marriage  ? " 


Suffering  Millions.  13 

"  The  marriage  !  "  said  Carlton,  "  Who  is  mar- 
ried ? " 

''Have  you  not  heard  of  it?  Why,  William 
Montroville  has  taken  unto  himself  a  wife." 

u  Laws  a  massy  !  do  tell !  did  I  ever !"  said  Bill 
Lawton,  "  Will  Montroville,  married !  Why,  he  is 
only  a  young  boy  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Preston,  "only  seventeen." 

"  What  a  pity,"  said  Captain  Carlton.  "  Will  is 
entirely  too  young  to  get  married.  Who  did  he 
marry  ? " 

"  He  married  Jane  Winters." 

"  For  mercy  sakes,"  said  Carlton,  "worse  and 
worse.  How  did  he  get  acquainted  with  her?  " 

"  Oh  !  he  met  her  at  a  party  and  in  just  twenty- 
six  days  afterwards  they  were  married.  She  just 
infatuated  the  boy.  You  know  she  is  the  older  of 
the  two." 

"Well,"'  said  Capt.  Carlton,  "This  surely  is  too 
bad.  William  would  have  made  a  fine  young 
man  had  he  remained  single." 

"Laws  a  Massy  !"  said  Bill  Lawton,  "Jane  be- 
longs to  a  good  family,  arter  all." 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  does,"  said  Carlton,  "  She  is 
no  wife  for  him." 

" 'Mazin'  strange!  'mazin'  strange,"  said  Bill, 
"  You  think  so  little  of  Jane." 

"  Well,"  said  Carlton,  "Nothing  could  be  more 
effectual  than  educating  the  future  mothers  for 
the  advancement  of  the  people!" 


14  Suffering  Millions, 

"  Wai,"  said  Bill,  "Jane  larnt  some  eddication." 

"  Well,"  said  Carlton,  "  She  has  not  been  prop- 
erly educated,  besides,  she  is  not  a  fit  person  for 
any  one  to  marry." 

"  Do  tell !  Laws  a  massy !  She  belongs  to  a  good 
family,"  said  Bill. 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  does,  I  think  wisdom  should 
dictate  the  person  and  not  the  family;  besides  you 
just  remember,"  said  Carlton,  "  this  marriage  will 
turn  out  bad.  Beside,  Will  is  too  young." 

"Arter  all,  I  dunno,  Peggie  and  I  were  married 
young.  I  had  nothin'  at  the  beginin',  and  nothin' 
much  yit.  Mebby  if  we  had  staid  single,  and  as 
you  say  got  some  eddecation,  it  mite  of  ben  better. 
But  arter  all  1  and  the  old  gal  has  got  along  mid- 
dlin  well." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  think  me  a  Philomath," 
replied  Carlton,  u  but  nevertheless  I  do  love  edu- 
cation. Why  did  Mr.  Montroville  let  him  marry 
so  young,  and  on  such  short  acquaintance?" 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Sherman,  "  since  Mr.  Montro- 
ville met  with  his  reverse  in  fortune  he  has  never 
been  the  same  man.  He  knew  nothing  of  the 
marriage  until  one  or  two  days  before  it  took 
place.  He  then  talked  to  William  and  the  boy 
threatened  to  run  away.  This  Mr.  Montroville 
could  not  stand.  He  just  idolized  William,  and 
has  always  indulged  him  very  much." 

"  Poor  boy,"  said  Capt.  Carlton,  "  he  will  regret 
this  hasty  step.  Just  remember  if  my  words  are 
not  true." 


Suffering  Millions.  15 

"Another  cup  of  coffee,"  said  Bill  Lawton, 
"Carlton  has  made  me  nervous.  Nothin'  jist  like 
coffee,  I  reckon,  ken  quiet  the  nerves.  S'pose  ef 
we  don't  hurry  we  hain't  goin'  to  git  that  piece  of 
ground  logged  off.  I  railly  'spect,  arter  all,  the 
boys  begin  to  git  scar't  about  the  frolick  to-night. 
Mrs.  Sherman,  another  cup  of  coffee,  I  see  my  cup 
has  run  dry  agin."  Now,  Bill  was  a  good  hearted 
fellow,  was  very  fond  of  coffee,  and  thought  it 
nothing,  especially  at  a  logging  bee,  to  drink  four 
or  five  cups  to  stimulate  his  nerves.  But  never- 
theless this  tickled  the  girls  who  were  waiting  on 
the  table,  they  would  insist  upon  Bill's  having 
more  coffee,  winking  at  each  other.  Finally  Mr. 
Sherman  noticed  their  fun  and  gave  his  daughter 
a  frown  that  made  her  plainly  understand  that  he 
wished  their  sport  stopped  at  once,  for  Bill  Law- 
ton  was  a  good,  hard  working  man,  and  welcome 
to  all  the  coffee  he  wished.  Coffee  was  a  very 
important  beverage  in  those  good  old  days,  espec- 
ially for  such  fellows  as  Bill. 

"  Marriage,"  observed  Oapt.  Carlton,  "  is  a  very 
important  step.  An  eminent  man  once  said  that 
people  should  pray  more  over  their  marriage  for 
God's  assistance  to  direct  them,  than  any  other  step 
in  life,  as  it  is  the  one  of  the  most  importance." 

"  Laws  a  massy !  "  said  Bill,  "  I  jest  s'pose  ef 
arter  all  they  would  use  a  little  common  sense, 
sich  amount  of  prayin'  railly  ain't  of  no  use.  I 
reckon  ef  a  person  is  a  middlin'  weak-minded  fel- 


16  Suffering  Millions. 

low  prayin'  might  ease  his  mind.  'Mazin'  strange 
how  some  people  think." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  "  Friend  Lawton," 
as  she  helped  him  to  another  cup  of  coffee,  "  mar- 
riage is  a  very  important  step,  and  one  that  a  per- 
son should  ask  God's  guidance  in,  for,  as  Capt. 
Carlton  says,  it  is  the  most  important  step  of  a 
worldly  nature.  I  once  knew  a  girl,  a  bright  intel- 
ligent girl,  that  had  been  as  well  educated  as  any 
girl  in  the  whole  country  around  where  she  lived." 

"  Do  tell,"  said  Bill,  "  wasn't  that  right  ? " 

"Yes,  but  I  was  going  to  say,  she  became  ac- 
quainted with  a  young  man  that  was  uneducated. 
Being  very  handsome  he  soon  won  the  girl's  heart. 
She  being  an  orphan  and  feeling  very  lonely,  very 
much  needed  some  one  to  lean  upon.  He  was 
constantly  by  her  side,  her  every  wish  he  tried  to 
grant  and  soon  became  all  the  world  to  her.  She 
gave  the  subject  of  the  difference  in  their  educa- 
tion no  thought.  She  looked  upon  him  as  the  best 
and  most  handsome  man  she  ever  saw.  Her 
mind  was  fairly  crazed  with  the  love  she  felt  for 
him.  Led  on  by  her  foolish  love  she  became  his 
wife,  never  once  thinking  that  they  were  entirely 
unsuited  for  each  other." 

"  Wai  arter  all  1  reckon  the  gal  was  happy,  was 
she  not?  "said  Bill. 

"  Yes,  for  a  number  of  years  she  was,  but  her 
cultured  mind  longed  and  craved  cultured  society. 
This  I  discovered  although  she  tried  to  keep  it  to 


Suffering  Millions.  17 

herself.  She  was  my  nearest  and  dearest  friend. 
As  the  beauty  of  youth  wore  away,  leaving  his 
mind  unstored  with  knowledge,  the  difference  be- 
came more  apparent.  This  she  could  not  help 
seeing,  but  being  a  true  woman  there  was  no  other 
way,  but  to  try  and  bear  this  mortification." 

After  dinner  the  men  were  soon  engaged  again 
in  rolling  the  logs  together.  I  noticed  a  number 
of  other  men  and  boys  had  come  in  to  help  Mr. 
Sherman  during  the  afternoon.  Among  the  num- 
ber I  noticed  William  Montroville.  At  the  supper 
table,  I  could  not  help  watching  him  as  I  had 
heard  the  conversation  at  noon  about  his  mar- 
riage. I  was  touched  with  a  feeling  of  sorrow,  as 
I  watched  the  youthful  one.  William  was  rather 
a  heavy  built  boy.  I  must  call  him  a  boy,  as  sure- 
ly that  was  all  he  was.  His  hair  was  a  rich  dark 
auburn,  which  lay  in  wavy  curls  around  his 
noble  brow. 

"  For  mercy  sakes,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  "  why 
did  Mr.  Montroville  let  a  boy  so  young  get  mar- 
ried?" 

I  replied,  "  That  is  more  than  I  can  tell." 

"  He  surely  indulged  William  too  much." 

"  Yes,  he  just  idolized  the  boy.'' 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Sherman,  "  Spare  the  rod, 
and  you  spoil  the  child.  But  in  these  days  par- 
ents let  the  children  govern  the  household.  Is  it 
not  a  pity  ?  " 

Capt.  Carl  ton    turned    to   William,   whom    he 


18  Suffering  Millions. 

watched  with  a  tender,  fatherly  look,  "  How  did 
your  father  make  it  with  Mr.  B.  about  those  mules 
he  let  him  have?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  William,  "  Mr.  B.  would  not  change 
back." 

"  Well,"  said  Carl  ton,  "  he  did  not  act  right,  did 
he?" 

"  No,  he  did  not.  I  had  a  very  peculiar  dream 
last  night  about  Mr.  B.  and  those  mules."  , 

"What  was  it?" 

"  I  dreamed  1  was  going  up  a  high  hill,  over  a 
very  hard,  stony  road.  I  thought  I  heard  a  noise 
behind  me,  and  upon  looking  around,  I  saw  Mr. 
B.'s  father-in-law  coming,  standing  up  in  his  wag- 
on, driving  those  mules  just  as  fast  as  he  could. 
When,  lo  and  behold!  Just  as  Bunyan  described 
Christian  with  that  great  burden  on  his  back,  so 
likewise  he  had  Mr.  B.  secreted  on  his  back  trying 
in  this  way,  as  I  dreamed,  to  get  him  into  heaven." 

At  this  witty  sally  of  William's  a  hearty  laugh 
went  round. 

"  Well."  said  Lawton,  "  Ef  he  ever  gits  thare,  I 
s'pose  that  is  the  only  way  for  him,  bekase  he  is 
too  mean  to  git  thare  any  other  way." 

"  Friend  Lawton  you  are  most  too  hard  on  Mr. 
B.,"  said  Carlton.  "  You  know. '  while  the  lamp 
holds  out  to  burn,  the  vilest  sinner  may  return.' " 

Turning  to  me,  Mrs.  Sherman  said,  "  William 
Montroville  is  the  most  witty  boy  I  ever  saw.  He 
is  always  full  of  fun  and  his  fun  is  usually  very 


Suffering  Millions.  19 

innocent.  But  you  see  Mr.  B.  took  advantage,  in 
some  way,  of  Mr.  Montroville  about  those  mules, 
therefore  William  has  been  rather  cutting  in  his 
remarks." 

"Well,"  said  Bill  Lawton,  "gist  good  enough 
for  him.  Old  B.  is  always  doin'  somethin'  he  had- 
ent  orto.  Ef  I  was  in  Montroville's  place  I'd  give 
him  a  good  thrashin'.  That's  gist  what  he  needs. 
That  Bill  Montroville  is  gist  the  right  kind  of 
stuff.  Bimby  ef  B.  don't  look  out  he  may  be  sorry 
yit  for  some  of  his  mean  tricks,  bekase  some  day 
he  will  run  across  the  wrong  feller,  and  ef  he  does 
he'll  git  it." 

In  the  evening  all  of  the  young  people  of  the 
neighborhood  gathered.  The  odor  of  wild  flowers 
filled  the  house.  Girls  and  boys  both,  with  ruddy 
cheeks  and  sparkling  eyes,  presented  perfect  em- 
blems of  health.  Oh,  youth  and  health!  what 
are  like  thee?  I  some  times  now  sigh  for  those 
good  old  days  of  yore.  It  was  not  long  before  the 
young  folks  were  whirling  in  the  giddy  mazes  of 
the  dance. 

A  short  time  after  this  logging  bee  I  engaged 
board  for  three  or  four  months  at  the  home  of  Mr. 
Montroville.  I  had  intended  to  board  during  the 
fall  and  winter  with  my  friend  Mr.  Bradbury,  but 
as  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  accommodate  me, 
and  there  were  very  lew  places  in  this  early  day 
where  a  person  could  secure  board,  I  had  to  be 
satisfied  in  doing  the  best  I  could  in  securing:  a 


20  Suffering  Millions. 

boarding  place.     But  I  felt  a  change  in  scenery 
and  climate  would  be  beneficial  to  my  health. 

In  the  family  there  were  three  children,  two 
boys  and  one  girl;  the  girl  being  the  youngest  of 
the  family.  The  boys  names  were  William  and 
Ward,  which  were  their  true  names.  The  girl  we 
will  call  May.  This  family  were  very  happy  in 
their  home,  while  prosperity  was  theirs  to  enjoy. 
The  mother,  Mrs.  Montroville,  was  one  of  those 
good  gentlewomen  who  indulged  her  children  in 
almost  their  every  desire.  She  was  a  good,  kind 
and  loving  mother.  Mr.  Montroville  was  a  man 
of  government  who  tried  to  instruct  his  children 
in  the  way  that  they  should  go.  Things  passed 
pleasantty  along  until  Mr.  Montroville  invested  in 
some  speculation  that  wrought  his  financial  ruin. 
We  now  find  them  as  the  reverse  of  fortune 
always  leaves  people,  in  changed  circumstances. 
Mr.  Montroville  being  proud  and  ambitious  was 
crushed  at  leaving  his  fine  home,  went  to  a  city  to 
live.  But  that  did  not  suit  the  family,  as  the  ways 
of  city  life  were  different  from  what  they  had  been 
used  to.  Mr.  Montroville  also  saw  that  the  city 
was  no  place  for  his  boys,  he  therefore  took  the 
means  he  had  left,  and  bought  him  a  home  in  the 
then  wilds  of  southern  Michigan.  Mrs.  Montro- 
ville and  May  remained  in  the  city  while  Mr. 
Montroville,  William  and  Ward  went  into  the 
wild  forest  to  make  a  home.  Mr.  Montroville 
hired  a  carpenter  to  build  him  a  house,  which, 


Suffering  Millions.  21 

when  completed,  was  quite  a  respectable  frame 
house.  Mr.  Montroville  and  the  boys  began  the 
hard  task  of  clearing  up  a  farm.  The  great  and 
lofty  trees  that  towered  away  up  toward  the  heav- 
ens looked  like  giants  and  almost  disheartened 
Mr.  Montroville  as  he  had  not  been  used  to  such 
work.  But,  as  man  was  to  go  forth  and  subdue 
the  earth,  they  labored  on,  and  as  industry  and 
perseverance  will  accomplish  all  things  so  in  this 
case  it  was  not  long  before  they  had  cleared  from 
the  forest  quite  a  farm.  The  boys  enjoyed  the 
sports  of  a  new  country.  There  was  plenty  of 
game  in  the  woods,  and  the  boys  when  they  had 
time  would  hunt  the  game  common  to  the  country. 
Mr.  Montroville  bought  the  boys  a  large  hound  to 
hunt  with  which  amused  them  very  much.  Wil- 
liam was  the  oldest  of  the  children,  he  therefore 
felt  the  reverse  of  their  circumstances  the  most. 
"Ward  was  a  very  bright,  active  boy  that  enjoyed 
the  fine  scenery  of  the  woods.  While  in  the  city 
he  had  attended  some  of  the  great  caravans  that 
traveled  about  the  world,  and  he  there  saw  the 
fine  bare-back  riders  and  show  men  expert  in  rid- 
ing horses  in  every  imaginable  way.  He  there- 
fore gained  a  love  for  that  fine  sport,  and  though 
but  a  boy  of  thirteen  years  yet  he  became  very 
expert  as  a  horse  trainer.  He  would  ride  a  horse 
as  fast  as  it  could  run,  while  standing  on  its  back. 
He  was  so  active  he  could  do  almost  anything  in 
the  line  of  climbing  a  tree,  or  riding  a  horse.  He 


22  Suffering  Millions. 

could  climb  a  tree  almost  equal  to  a  squirrel.  He 
would  almost  run  from  the  Bottom  to  the  top  of 
great  tall  trees.  He  was  looked  upon  by  the  peo- 
ple as  almost  a  clown.  Many  were  the  hardships 
the  family  had  to  encounter,  but  as  industry  and 
activity  always  bring  happiness,  they  were  happy 
in  their  new  home.  There  are  many  pleasures 
in  a  new  region  that  the  people  of  an  older  and 
more  improved  country  know  nothing  of.  The 
people  were  warm-hearted  and  kind,  as  is  almost 
always  the  case  in  a  new  country.  In  older  and 
more  improved  countries  the  people  become 
more  formal.  One  sad  affliction  was,  that  the 
boys  had  not  the  opportunity  of  attending  school, 
as  it  was  impossible  for  their  father  to  spare 
them,  as  he  had  so  much  work  to  do  and  was 
not  able  to  hire  help.  This  was  a  very  great 
pity,  as  youth  is  the  time  to  improve  the  mind 
for  future  usefulness.  We  will  here  remark 
that  one  of  the  greatest  mistakes  of  life  is 
not  to  educate  children.  Although  these  boys 
grew  to  be  smart  and  intelligent  men ;  with  more 
than  ordinary  capacity  of  mind;  yet  they  never 
could  attain  the  same  usefulness  in  life  that  they 
might  and  that  they  would  have  been  so  well  able 
to  have  filled.  But  nevertheless  they  grew  to  be 
noble  and  good  men.  With  May  the  circum- 
stances were  different.  Mrs.  Montroville  was  a 
healthy,  industrious  woman  that  took  all  of  the 
household  care  upon  herself.  The  family  being 


Suffering  Millions.  23 

small  she  did  not  need  the  services  of  May  very 
much;  and  being  the  youngest,  and  the  only  girl 
she  indulged  the  child  very  much.  May  therefore 
had  the  advantage  of  attending  school  as  much  as 
she  wished.  For  a  new  country  the  school  advan- 
tages were  very  good.  Among  the  leading  citizens 
were  a  family*  of  Puritans,  descendants  of  the 
noble  settlers  of  Plymouth  Rock.  They  were 
cultured  and  educated  people.  This  was  a  great 
help  to  the  neighborhood  for  they  did  much  to 
improve  and  elevate  the  people.  They  secured 
fine  and  able  eastern  teachers,  to  the  great  advan- 
tage of  the  schools,  and  for  a  new  country  the 
school  advantages  were  better  than  are  generally 
found.  May  at  first  felt  very  bashful  to  go  to 
school  alone,  without  her  brothers.  It  was  some 
time  before  she  felt  easy  and  contented  in  a 
strange  school,  but  as  she  became  acquainted  with 
the  scholars  her  bashful  ness  wore  away.  She  soon 
began  to  enjoy  the  school,  and  being  bright  and 
intelligent  she  soon  made  rapid  progress  in  her 
studies.  The  school  house  was  one  mile  from  her 
home.  The  road  about  half  way  was  through  the 
woods,  fine  large  trees  shading  it  on  either  side. 
There  also  ran  a  beautiful  stream  of  water  over 
which  she  had  to  pass. 

Mrs.  Montroville  was  of  southern  blood,  born 
and  raised  in  the  south.  Her  people  were  slave- 
holders, and  she  therefore  possessed  much  of  the 
disposition  of  southern  folks.  She  did  not  like 


24  Suffering  Millions. 

the  hardships  of  the  working  class  of  people,  and 
ever  sighed  for  her  southern  home.  She  had  been 
brought  up  as  the  people  of  the  south  were,  at 
that  time,  to  believe  in  slavery.  She  had  received 
but  little  education  and  used  many  of  the  southern 
terms  of  speech.  Although  gentle  herself,  yet  her 
children  partook  largely  of  the  fiery  and  ambitious 
nature  of  the  southern  people.  Mr.  Montroville 
also  was  of  southern  descent,  although  born  and 
raised  in  the  north.  But  his  disposition  was  much 
as  the  disposition  of  southern  people  are,  there- 
fore this  family  felt  much  the  change  of  their  loss 
of  property,  but  they  tried  to  make  the  best  out  of 
life  they  could,  they  labored  hard  to  make  a  home 
in  the  woods. 


Suffering  Millions.  25 


CHAPTER  III, 


Said  Mr.  Montroville  to  his  wife,  "  I  very  much 
fear  there  is  going  to  be  trouble  about  the  slave 
question.  To-day,  while  1  was  in  town,  every- 
thing was  excitement.  You  know  there  has  been 
hard  feelings  by  many  because  Mr.  Douglas  was 
not  elected.  On  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Lincoln's 
inauguration  he  delivered  a  long  and  thoughtful 
address,  declaring  his  fixed  purpose  to  uphold  the 
Constitution,  enforce  the  laws,  and  preserve  the 
integrity  of  the  Union." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Montroville,  "  I  suppose  that 
is  right,  is  it  not  ? " 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Montroville,  "  but  you 
know  there  has  been  hard  feeling  for  a  long  time 
about  the  slave  question." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Montroville, "  they  had  better 
let  the  slaves  remain  just  where  they  are,  for  I 
do  believe  that  the  slaves  in  my  father's  kitchen 
were  better  off  than  are  the  poorer  class  of  people 
here  in  the  north." 

"  Yes,  but  I  hold  these  truths  to  be  self  evident, 
that  all  men  are  created  equal;  that  they  are  en- 
dowed by  their  Creator  with  certain  inalienable 
rights  ;  that  among  these  are  life,  liberty,  and  the 
pursuit  of  happiness." 


26  Suffering  Millions. 

'•Then  they  had  better  let  the  negroes  be  just 
where  they  are,  for  they  are  the  happiest  people  I 
ever  saw.  I  have  heard  them  sing  and  dance,  and 
shout,  and  have  more  fun  in  one  night,  than  I  have 
ever  seen  any  one  have  in  all  of  the  time  I  have 
been  in  the  cold,  frozen  north.  The  people  of  the 
north  do  not  understand  their  natures,  and  that 
they  are  free  from  care.  There  was  Uncle  Nathan 
Chaffin's  slaves.  They  were  ten  times  better  off* 
than  half  of  the  poorer  working  class  of  the 
north." 

u  No  doubt  some  were,  but  if  they  happened  to 
have  such  a  Master  as  old  Legree,  in  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,  then  what  ?  " 

u  Well,  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Montroville.  "  Such 
men  as  he.  is  what  makes  slavery  bad,  yes,  very 
bad,  indeed.  Of  course  there  are  some  brutes  in 
the  form  of  men,  who  are  very  mean  to  their 
slaves." 

"I  shall  go  to  town  to-morrow  to  get  my  paper 
said  Mr.  Montroville,  then  I  can  find  out  what 
they  are  doing  down  south.  Also  who  the  new 
cabinet  are." 

The  next  evening,  as  the  family  were  seated 
around  the  fire,  Mr.  Montroville  read  that  the  new 
cabinet  was  organized  with  W.  H.  Seward,  of  New 
York  as  secretary  of  State;  Salmon  P.  Chase,  of 
Ohio,  secretary  of  the  treasury  ;  and  Simon  Cam- 
eron, secretary  of  war,  (who  in  the  following 
January  was  succeeded  in  office  by  Edwin  M. 


Suffering  Millions.  27 

Stanton).  The  secretaryship  of  the  navy  was  con- 
ferred on  Gideon  Welles. 

"  I  hope  he  has  made  a  wise  choice  for  his  cabi- 
net," remarked  Mr.  Montroville.  In  his  inaugural 
address  the  President  indicated  the  policy  of  the 
new  administration  by  declaring  his  purpose  to 
repossess  the  forts,  arsenals  and  public  property 
which  had  been  seized  by  the  Confederate  authori- 
ties. On  the  12th  of  March  an  effort  was  made  by 
commissioners  of  the  seceded  states  to  obtain  from 
the  national  government  a  recognition  of  their 
independence. 

u  No  doubt  this  will  be  best  for  the  north  as 
well  as  for  the  south,  ?aid  Mrs.  Montroville." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Montroville.  "  Prudence 
will  dictate  that  governments  long  established 
should  not  be  changed  for  light  and  trivial  causes. 
All  experience  hath  shown  that  mankind  are  more 
disposed  to  suffer,  while  evils  are  sufferable,  than 
to  right  themselves  by  abolishing  the  former  to 
which  they  are  accustomed." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Montroville,  "  I  was  raised  in 
the  south.  I  think  I  have  a  better  right  to  know 
about  it  than  you  do.  We  had  better  times  there 
than  I  ever  expect  to  have  here  in  the  north." 

"  No  doubt  you  did  at  the  expense  of  some  one 
else's  labor."  Just  here  Mr.  Smith  came  in.  Said 
he  to  Mr.  Montroville,  "I  suppose  you  have  heard 
of  the  trouble  down  south  t  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Montroville. 


28  Suffering  Millions. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Smith,  "you  know  the  de- 
fences of  Charleston  Harbor  were  held  by  Major 
Robert  Anderson.  His  entire  forces  amounted  to 
seventy-nine  men.  Owing  to  the  weakness  of  his 
garrison,  he  deemed  it  prudent  to  evacuate  Fort 
Moultrie  and  retire  to  Fort  Sumpter.  In  the 
meantime  Confederate  volunteers  had  flocked  to 
the  city  and  powerful  batteries  had  been  built 
about  the  harbor.  As  soon  as  it  became  known 
that  the  Federal  government  would  reinforce  the 
forts,  the  authorities  of  the  Confederate  States  de- 
termined to  anticipate  the  movement  by  com- 
pelling Anderson  to  surrender.  Accordingly, 
General  Beauregard,  commandant  of  Charleston, 
sent  a  flag  to  Fort  Sumpter  demanding  an  evacua- 
tion. Major  Anderson  replied  that  he  should  hold 
the  fortress  and  defend  his  flag." 

"That  was  right,"  said  Mr.  Montroville,  "  it 
showed  him  to  be  a  brave  man." 

Mr.  Smith  continued,  "  on  the  following  morn- 
ing the  first  gun  was  fired  from  a  Confederate 
battery.  A  terrific  bombardment  of  thirty-four 
hours1  duration  followed  ;  the  fort  was  reduced  to 
ruins,  set  on  fire,  and  obliged  to  capitulate.  The 
honors  of  war  were  granted  to  Anderson  and  his 
men,  who  had  made  a  brave  and  obstinate  resist- 
ance." 

"  Just  as  I  expected.  With  this  begins  actual 
hostilities.  I  am  very  sorry  indeed.  This  is  going 
to  make  a  bloody  war.  It  will  not  be  as  many  of 


Suffering  Millions.  29 

the  northern  men  think.  I  well  understand 
the  disposition  of  those  southern  people;  they  will 
fight  until  they  die.  It  is  as  brother  against 
brother.  Many  of  my  relations  are  in  the  south. 
Yes,  indeed,  I  am  very,  very  sorry.  How  many 
lives  were  lost  ?  " 

"There  were  no  lives  lost,  but  the  fort  was 
ruined,''  replied  Mr.  Smith. 

The  news  of  this  startling  event  went  through 
the  country  like  a  flame  of  fire.  There  had  been 
expectation  of  violence,  but  the  actual  shock  came 
like  a  clap  of  thunder.  Public  opinion  in  both 
the  north  and  south  was  rapidly  consolidated. 
Three  days  alter  the  fall  of  Sumpter,  President 
Lincoln  issued  a  call  for  seventy  five  thousand 
volunteers  to  serve  three  months  in  the  overthrow 
of  the  secession  movement.  But,  as  Mr.  Montro- 
ville  feared,  the  war  did  not  stop  there,  but  con- 
tinued to  be  a  long  and  bloody  one.  On  the  19th 
of  April,  when  the  first  regiment  of  Massachusetts 
volunteers  were  passing  through  Baltimore  on 
their  way  to  Washington,  they  were  fired  upon 
by  the  citizens,  and  three  men  killed.  This  was 
the  first  blood  shed  in  the  war. 

Virginia  seceded  from  the  Union.  On  May  6th, 
Arkansas  followed,  then  North  Carolina  on  the 
20th  of  the  same  month.  In  Tennessee — especially 
in  East  Tennessee — there  was  a  powerful  opposi- 
tion to  disunion,  and  it  was  not  until  the  8th  of 
June  that  a  secession  ordinance  could  be  passed. 


30  Suffering  Millions. 

The  people  of  Maryland  were  divided  info  hostile 
parties.  In  Missouri,  the  movement  resulted  in 
civil  war.  In  Kentucky  the  authorities  issued  a 
proclamation  of  neutrality.  Already  the  Southern 
Congress  had  adjourned  from  Montgomery,  to 
meet  on  the  20th  of  July  at  Richmond,  which  was 
chosen  as  the  capitol  of  the  Confederacy.  To  that 
place  had  already  come  Jefferson  Davis  and  the 
officers  of  his  cabinet,  for  the  purpose  of  directing 
the  affairs  of  government  and  the  army.  So  stood 
the  anatagonistic -power  in  the  beginning  of  June, 
1861,  and  before  the  close  of  this  year  ten  states 
had  seceded  from  the  Union.  It  was  now  evident 
that  a  great  war,  perhaps  the  greatest  in  modern 
times,  was  impending  over  the  nation.  "  What 
do  you  think  were  the  causes  of  the  civil  war  ?  " 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  Montroville,  "the- first  and 
most  general  cause  of  the  war,  was  the  different 
construction  put  upon  the  national  constitution 
by  the  people  of  the  north  and  south." 

"  Do  you  think  this  the  greatest  cause,  said  I  ?  " 

"  No.  A  second  general  cause  of  the  civil  war 
was  the  different  systems  of  labor  in  the  north  and 
in  the  south.  In  the  former  section  the  laborers 
were  freemen,  citizens,  voters;  in  the  latter, 
bondmen,  property,  slaves." 

"  Your  wife,  Mr.  Montroville,  stems  to  believe 
in  slavery." 

"  Oh  yes  !  You  see  my  wife  was  born  and  raised 
in  the  south.  Her  best  days  were  spent  there. 


Suffering  Millions*  31 

She  knew  nothing  but  happiness  there,  so  it  is  no 
wonder  she  believes  in  it.  I,  too,  am  of  southern 
descent,  yet  I  believe  in  abiding,  by  the  laws  of 
my  country." 

u  That  is  right,"  said  I. 

"  In  the  south,'1  said  Mr.  Montroville,  the  theory 
was  that  the  capital  of  a  country  should  own  the 
labor.  In  the  north  that  both  labor  and  capital 
are  free.  Thus  there  came  to  be  a  dividing  line 
drawn  through  the  Union,  east  and  west." 

"  Were  these  the  only  causes  ?  " 

"  No.  The  danger  arising  from  this  source  was 
increased,  and  the  discord  between  the  sections 
aggravated  by  several  subordinate  causes.  The 
first  of  these  was  the  invention  of  the  cotton  gin, 
in  1793,  by  Eli  Whitney,  a  young  collegian  of 
Massachusetts.  He  went  to  Georgia,  and  while 
there  his  attention  was  directed  to  the  tedious  and 
difficult  process  of  picking  cotton  by  hand,  that  is 
in  separating  the  seed  from  the  fibre.  The  indus- 
try of  the  cotton  growing  states  was  paralyzed  by 
the  tediousness  of  preparing  the  product  for  the 
market." 

"  It  must  have  been  very  tedious." 

"  It  was,  and  young  Whitney  undertook  to  re- 
move the  difficulty,  and  succeeded  in  inventing  a 
gin  which  astonished  the  beholder  by  the  rapidity 
and  excellence  of  its  work." 

"  Surely  this  could  have  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  war  ? " 


32  Suffering  Millions. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Montroville, "  from  being  profit- 
less, cotton  became  the  most  profitable  of  all  the 
staples.  The  industry  of  the  south  was  revolution- 
ized. Before  the  war  it  was  estimated  that  Whit- 
ney's gin  had  added  a  thousand  millions  of  dollars 
to  the  revenues  of  the  southern  states.  Slave 
labor  became  important,  slaves  valuable,  and  the 
system  of  slavery,  a  fixed  and  deep  rooted  institu- 
tion." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  It  would  not  have  been  so  bad, 
had  it  not  been  for  such  brutes  as  Legree." 

"  Of  course  it  would  not,  yet,  no  doubt  many  a 
man  has  lost  his  soul  on  account  of  slavery, 
and  what  can  be  compared  to  the  worth  of  one 
soul.  From  this  time  onward  there  was  constant 
danger  that  the  slavery  question  would  so  embitter 
the  politics  and  legislation  of  the  country  as  to 
bring  about  disunion.  The  danger  of  such  a  result 
was  manifested  in  the  Missouri  agitation  of  1820- 
21.  Next  came  the  IN  unification  acts  of  south 
Carolina.  But  still  I  love  the  south,  for  it  was 
the  land  of  my  parents'  nativity.  I  also  love  the 
north  for  it  is  my  home.  The  place  where  my 
children  were  born." 

Thus  sang  a  poor  old  colored  woman  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  trouble  down  south : 

Ah  !    Praise  and  t'anks  de  Lo'd. 

He  comes  to  set  de  people  free, 

And  Massa  t'inks  it  day  ob  doom,  but  we  of  jubilee. 

Ah !  poor  ole  Dinnah  is  afe'rd  de  Lo'd  will  let 


Suffering  Millions.  33 

you  sing  and  shout  de  year  of  jubilee,  'spesually 
ob  bein'  free.  Dis  chile  haint  one  ob  de  kind  dat 
belibes  in  sich  po'er  ob  de  Lo'd  ;  bekase  ef  de  Lo'd 
had  ben  so  mighty  good  he  wou'dn't  let  dem  sold 
my  poor  wife  and  chile. 

"  Well,"  said  Dinah, "  now  Sambo  dare  am  foun' 
in  de  book  of  Solomen  deze  wo'ds, '  fo'  dem  dat  sews 
de  same  shall  they  rip,'  now  de  kashin  ob  my  inter- 
ducin'  dis  subjec'  am  as  wu'ked  out  en  de  las' 
meetin  in  dat  dar  grove." 

"  In  de  fust  place,"  said  Sambo, u  I  tuk  notice  dat 
'mong  de  darkys  de  subjec'  was  bein'  fabercated 
for  de  po'r  headens,  yo'  look'd  like  a  pack  of  po'r 
old  fools  don'  on  yo'  shin  bon's  prayin'  to  be  free. 
Fuddermo',  an'  in  de  nsx'  place  lemme  tell  yo' 
dis,  dat  de  Lo'd  can  no  mor'  do  any  t'ing  'bo't 
settin'  yo'  fee  dan  I  can.  Yo'  gwinto  see  'bo't  dis, 
an'  yo'  kin  ram  dis  truf  down  yo'  t'ro't." 

"  Well,  Sambo,  Iz  bin  one  ob  de  kind  dat  had 
conwictions  dat  de  Lo'd  is  gwinter  set  us  free.  De 
Lo'd  can  take  care  of  de  babes  ob  de  lam'." 

"  Well,"  said  Sambo,  as  the  tears  flowed  down 
his  dusky  cheeks,  "  why  did  de  Lo'd  den  let  dem 
sell  my  po'r  wife  an'  den  tare  ou'  po'r  little  chile 
from  it  mudder's  bre'st  ?  De  po'r  little  t'ing  tried 
to  cling  to  its  mudder.  Oh,  de'r,  ole  massa  is 
good,  but  de  kinder  de  massa  de  harder  to  be  sold. 
Dat  it  haint  gwinto  see  de  lubed  ones  any  mor'. 
Day  took  my  wife  to  Georgia  to  toil  in  de  cotton 


34  Suffering  Millions. 

an'  de  cain.    Day  took  oir  po'  little  babe,  wh'ar 
we  can  never  see  it  agin." 

"  We  kno'  de  Lo'd  he  gib  us  sign, 
Dat  some  day  we  be  free ; 
De  norf  wind  tell  it  to  the  pine, 
De  wild  duck  to  de  sea. 
We  t'ink  it  when  de  church  bell  rings, 
We  dream  it  in  de  dreams, 
De  rice  bird  means  it  when  it  sings, 
De  eagle  when  he  screams." 


Suffering  Millions.  35 


CHAPTER  IV, 


As  we  have  before  made  mention  after  associat- 
ing for  sometime  among  the  young  people,William 
became  acquainted  with  a  young  lady,  whom  he 
shortly  afterward  married.  Being  yet  very  young 
Mr.  Montroville  thought  best  for  him  to  live  at 
home  for  a  while,  as  their  family  was  small,  and 
he  did  not  like  to  spare  one  of  the  children  from 
the  parental  roof.  William  therefore  brought  his 
wife  home.  Being  much  attached  to  his  wife,  also 
to  his  father's  famity,  he  was  very  happy.  Things 
passed  pleasantly  along  for  some  time.  But  about 
this  time  there  was  a  dark  cloud  hovering  over  our 
beloved  United  States.  Our  nation  was  threat- 
ened with  being  disunited  in  heart  and  hand. 
South  Carolina  had  already  seceded,  Jefferson 
Davis  declaring  that  she  was  a  free  and  independ- 
ent State.  It  was  then  that  our  country  called  for 
brave  men.  As  a  good  father  would  try  and 
govern  his  household,  so  she  saw  something  must 
be  done.  She  needed  men  to  try  and  prevent  dis- 
union. William  looked  at  his  country's  need,  and 
fired  with  the  same  warm  blood  that  runs  in  south- 
ern veins,  was  ready  and  willing  to  go.  Although 
his  friends  were  dear,  yet  duty  called  him  now. 
His  country  needed  his  help  to  protect  the  homes, 


36  Suffering  Millions. 

in  one  of  which  was  all  he  held  dear,  that  peace 
might  yet  reign;  and  that  children  yet  unborn 
might  enjoy  the  same  liberty  that  he  had  ever 
enjoyed.  He  bid  wife,  parents,  brother  and  sister 
adieu,  and  went  at  his  country's  call ;  if  need  be  to 
lay  down  his  life,  or  to  spill  the  last  drop  of  blood 
for  freedom's  sake.  Sad  was  the  parting.  His 
friends  wrung  their  hands  and  wept,  but  they  would 
not  hold  him  back,  for  they  knew  that  duty  called 
him  away.  He  was  among  the  youngest  and 
bravest  of  northern  men. 

My  health  had  so  improved  in  this  climate  that 
I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  secure  a  regular 
boarding  place  and  remain  for  sometime.  Mr. 
Bradberry,  whom  I  considered  a  very  dear  friend, 
had  enlarged  his  house,  and  now  very  kindly 
offered  me  a  home  in  his  family.  The  Montrovilles 
were  not  quite  as  comfort  ably  situated,  so  I  changed 
my  boarding  place.  But  as  I  had  become  some- 
what interested  in  the  family  I  still  kept  up  an  ac- 
quaintance with  them,  partly  on  account  of  their 
kindness  towards  me,  and  partly  on  account  of 
their  peculiar  temperaments.  I  was  very  much 
affected  at  the  parting  of  William  and  his  friends, 
yet  I  knew  it  was  necessary  that  our  country 
should  be  protected. 

"  What  bosom  beats  not  .for  his  country's  cause 
Briton's  attend;  be  worth  like  this  approved." — Pope. 

Those  were  dark  days  for    the  people   of  this 
country.    Not  like  a  war  with  a  foreign  nation,  but 


Suffering  Millions.  37 

with  brother  against  brother,  both  fighting  as  they 
thought,  for  their  rights.  Death  and  destruction 
invaded  both  armies.  Blood  flowed  on  many  a 
battle  field.  The  hearts  of  friends  at  home  grew 
sad  as  they  waited  and  longed  for  peace  to  be 
restored.  But  still  the  war  swept  on.  A  call  was 
made  for  seventy-five  thousand  men.  But  even 
this  number  was  too  small,  although  more  than 
the  number  of  children  of  Israel  that  died  with  the 
plague  in  King  David's  time.  Then  again  came  a 
call  for  three  hundred  thousand  more,  and  still 
again  for  three  hundred  thousand  more.  Then 
brave  men  rallied  for  the  cause  from  Mississippi's 
winding  stream,  and  from  New  England's  shore, 
and  still  the  war  was  continued.  Starvation  and 
all  kinds  of  hardships,  the  soldiers  in  both  armies 
endured.  I  speak  of  these  sufferings  to  try  and 
impress  on  the  minds  of  the  young  and  rising  gen- 
erations, and  to  those  that  know  little  or  nothing 
of  the  sorrows  of  this  dreadful  war,  what  a  bad 
thing  it  is  for  a  nation  to  be  divided  and  go  to  war, 
the  one  portion  against  the  other.  It  is  as1' A 
house  divided  against  itself  shall  not  stand,"  and 
also,  "Though  the  tongue  is  a  little  member  it 
boasteth  great  things,"  yet  it  can  "  set  nations  on 
fire,"  therefore  all  should  try  and  govern  the 
tongue  as  well  as  the  thoughts,  for  both  used  .in 
the  wrong  direction  can  do  great  harm.  It  is  my 
object  in  writing  this  volume  to  impress  upon  the 
mind  of  the  young  a  right  object  in  life,  and  the 


38  Suffering  Millions. 

great  necessity  of  trusting  God  at  all  times,  and  in 
all  things,  in  little  things  as  well  as  great. 

After  leaving  home  William  met  many  trials 
and  temptations.  Many  are  the  wicked  influences 
thrown  around  a  young  man  in  the  army.  Although 
almost  overcome  with  grief  at  the  parting  with 
friends  and  loved  ones  at  home,  after  leaving 
the  north,  and  while  in  the  south  his  mission  was 
to  aid  his  beloved  country.  He  made  a  brave  and 
gallant  soldier.  Although  he  loved  the  south  and 
the  southern  people,  because  it  was  his  mother's 
native  land,  yet  he  loved  liberty  and  thought  it 
better  for  both  north  and  south  to  be  united,  for 
in  unity  there  is  strength.  "United  we  stand 
divided  we  fall,''  is  a  good  maxim  for  either  home 
or  country.  Although  away  from  home  and  friends, 
and  strange  as  it  may  seem,  yet  his  brave  and 
dauntless  nature  enjoyed  the  wild  and  romantic 
scenes  of  war.  From  his  quick  and  active  nature, 
and  possessing  as  he  did  the  ability  to  imperson- 
ate others,  he  acted  many  times  as  a  spy.  thereby 
ofttimes  doing  more  good  to  his  country  than  he 
could  in  any  other  capacity.  He  did  not  at  this 
time  enjoy  religion,  therefore  did  not  feel  the 
remorse  of  acting  in  such  a  capacity.  The  south- 
ern people  were  indignant  at  the  northern  soldiers, 
and  did  all  in  their  power  to  do  them  harm  in 
every  way  they  could.  There  were  many  good 
and  loyal  people  in  the  south,  which  sometimes 
made  it  hard  to  tell  the  loyal  from  the  disloyal 


Suffering  Millions.  39 

ones.  In  one  of  the  southern  states  lived  a  very 
rich,  and  influential  man.  who  claimed  to  be  loyal, 
but  it  was  rumored  that  he  was  not  loyal,  and  that 
he  was  helping  the  south  in  many  ways,  in  fur- 
nishing provisions,  and,  also  by  acting  as  a  spy, 
gaining  knowledge  of  the  northern  army,  and  then 
communicating  the  same  to  the  southern  army. 
The  union  soldiers  tried  in  many  ways  to  find  out 
whether  he  was  really  loyal  or  not.  At  last  the 
officers  of  William's  regiment  conceived  the  plan 
of  sending  him  as  a  spy.  They  therefore  obtained 
a  suit  of  southern  planter's  clothes,  with  broad 
rimmed  hat,  suph  as  was  worn  by  southern  plant- 
ers at  that  time,  and  William  went  to  the  old 
farmer's  plantation,  dressed  as  a  young  southerner. 
He  well  knew  that  if  his  identity  was  discovered 
death  would  be  his  immediate  portion,  because 
they  do  not  parley  long  with  one  acting  as  a  spy. 
Yet  he  was  too  brave  to  fear  death,  if  by  it  he 
could  aid  his  country,  for  this  is  what  the  truly 
brave  soldier  expected. 

The  old  southern  planter  received  him  in  truly 
southern  style.  After  having  him  alight  from  his 
horse  he  had  his  servants  bring  out  decanters  of 
brandy,  thereby  showing  his  hospitality  in  true 
southern  style.  After  conversing  on  different 
topics  of  the  day,  the  old  planter  referred  to  "  the 
d — d  war  "  as  he  called  it,  which  was  ruining  his 
country.  He  went  on  to  tell  how  he  had  helped 
the  confede;  ate  army,  and  stated  that  he  had  a 


40  Suffering  Millions. 

son,  an  officer,  in  the  rebel  army.  William  asked 
him  many  questions  in  regard  to  the  situation  of  the 
confederate  army,  and  gained  much  information. 
As  the  old  man  was  showing  him  his  room  up  stairs 
William  noticed  the  stars  and  stripes,  our  dear  na- 
tional flag,  made  into  a  bed  quilt.  If  anything 
will  make  a  loyal  person's  blood  run  cold,  it  is  in 
seeing  our  beautiful  flag  mistreated.  William 
stepped  to  the  bed  and  raising  the  flag  said,  "  You 
have  the  stars  and  stripes  made  into  a  quilt  ? " 

';  Yes,"  said  the  planter,  "  and  a  nicer  one  than 
that  I  dragged  through  the  streets  of  Kichmond, 
tied  to  my  horse's  tail." 

This  and  many  other  things  showed  how  loyal 
he  was.  At  supper  the  planter's  wife,  more 
shrewd  than  her  husband,  a  trait  for  which  south- 
ern women  were  noted,  looking  over  her  spectacles, 
said  to  her  husband,  "you  had  better  be  a  little 
careful  of  what  you  say,  just  as  likely  as  not  this 
young  man  is  a  union  soldier." 

'•Not  much,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  guess  I  can 
tell  a  southern  man's  talk." 

William  was  well  acquainted  with  many  of  the 
southern  phrases  of  speech,  learning  many  of  them 
years  before  of  his  mother,  and  they  were  very 
natural  for  him  to  use.  In  this  way  he  had  com- 
pletely fooled  the  old  planter.  But  this  made 
William's  blood  run  cold,  for  he  well  knew  the 
result  if  he  was  found  out.  He  remained  with  the 
planter  until  morning,  and  then  excusing  himself 


Suffering  Millions.  41 

returned  to  the  union  army  to  relate  how  loyal  the 
old  gentleman  was.  His  officers  received  him  with 
warm  congratulations  for  doing  so  brave  and  dar- 
ing an  act.  One  of  the  union  Kentucky  regiments 
seeing  his  bravery,  and  knowing  him  to  possess 
southern  blood,  offered  him  an  honorable  position 
to  serve  with  them,  but  his  officers  would  not  give 
him  up.  This  he  somewhat  regretted,  for  he 
thought  that  he  might  be  able  there  to  better  serve 
his  country.  We  will  leave  him  in  the  south,  and 
return  to  his  home  in  the  far  away  north,  with 
God's  blessing  upon  him. 


42  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  V, 


We  now  come  back  to  the  home  in  the  north. 
Sad,  indeed,  is  the  home  of  the  soldier.  While 
away,  where  death  and  hardship  meets  him  on 
every  hand,  little  can  cheer  the  hearts  of  parents  or 
wife  as  they  wait,  not  knowing  but  the  next  mail 
may  bring  them  tidings  that  will  crush  the  heart 
and  cause  "an  aching  void  that  time  can  never  fill." 
Mr.  Montroville's  family  being  so  small,  and  so 
very  lonesome,  it  was  thought  best  for  William's 
wife  to  remain  with  them,  not  only  because  of 
that  fact  but  also  because  her  father  and  mother 
were  dead  and  she  had  no  better  place  to  stay. 
Things  passed  as  pleasantly  as  could  be  expected. 
But  there  was  soon  to  be  a  change  that  Mrs.  Mon- 
troville  and  William's  wife  feared  might  cause 
trouble.  May  had  always  been  the  baby,  never 
knowing  the  love  of  one  younger  than  herself. 
She  had  been  badly  spoiled,  and  from  being 
always  indulged  in  having  her  own  way,  had 
become  very  selfish.  She  knew  no  government 
higher  than  her  own.  It  is  no  kindness  to  a  child 
to  indulge  it  in  a  way  that  will  cause  it  misery 
and  sorrow  all  its  life.  This  is  one  of  the  sins  that 
will  remain  to  the  "  third  and  fourth  generation." 
God's  laws  were  laws  of  government.  He  did 


Suffering  Millions.  43 

not  intend  to  make  a  law  and  then  to  have  it 
broken.  I  have  no  patience  with  parents  who 
will  kneel  down  at  a  prayer  meeting,  or  at  any 
other  public  place,  and  pray  for  God  to  pour  ont 
his  blessings  upon  their  children,  and  then  while 
at  home  let  them  do  just  as  they  please.  Such 
prayers  as  these,  in  my  candid  opinion,  do  more 
harm  than  they  do  good.  Worldly  people  point 
those  Christians  out  and  sny,  "  Look  at  such  a 
Christian's  children  !  They  are  the  worst  children 
in  the  neighborhood."  Which  is  oflen  the  truth. 
It  does  more  harm  than  this,  for  the  Bible  says, 
"Ask  and  ye  shall  receive,"  but  it  also  says  "  God 
cannot  lie,"  and  it  is  not  his  plan  to  bless  the 
raising  of  the  children  of  parents,  who  let  them 
act  at  home,  here  in  an  enlightened  and  a  civilized 
land,  worse  than  the  children  of  parents  in  a 
heathen  land.  I  have  now  in  my  mind  a  very 
devoted  and  saintly-appearing  woman,  who  will 
kneel  in  public  worship  and  ask  God's  blessing 
upon  her  children  in  the  most  eloquent  language, 
and  while  at  home  allow  those  children  to  do  all 
manner  of  wrong  things.  I  do  not  believe  that  God 
looks  upon  such  prayers  with  the  least  allowance. 
They  put  me  in  mind  of  the  Pharisee  who  "loved 
to  make  long  prayers  in  public  to  be  seen  of  men." 
The  Holy  Bible  says  this  is  all  they  will  receive. 
Their  children  should  be  pitied  instead  of  being 
hated  as  they  always  are.  The  parents  in  their 
love  of  display  in  prayer,  do  not  stop  to  think  that 


44  Suffering  Millions. 

they  are  doing  their  children  an  injustice.  Such 
prayers  are  a  shame  and  disgrace  to  the  Christian 
religion.  -But  one  might  say  they  have  no  faculty 
to  govern.  But  that  is  no  excuse.  We  can  culti- 
vate our  faculties  if  we  try.  If  they  have  no  fac- 
ulty to  govern,  then  let  (hem  "  ask  God  in  secret^ 
and  he  will  reward  them  openly. " 

May's  mother  made  no  such  prayers  as  these, 
but  she  kad  always  indulged  her  in  having  her 
own  way,  and  May  was  of  a  very  impatient  and 
nervous  temperament  that  made  her  very  hard  to 
get  along  with.  For  this  cause,  Mrs.  Montroville 
feared  that  the  change  that  was  about  to  take 
place  might  not  make  it  as  pleasant  as  it  now  was. 
There  was  soon  to  come  to  that  lonesome  home 
another  litlle  one.  Many  of  the  friends  of  Wil- 
liam's wife  said  there  would  bo  trouble  with  May. 
This  they  all  feared,  as  William's  wife  was  a 
quarrelsome  and  inconsiderate  woman.  But  when 
the  little  stranger  made  its  appearance  May  looked 
upon  it  as  a  gem  of  unearthly  sweetness.  A  new 
joy  had  come  to  her  heart  and  home.  She  had 
never  loved  anything  so  well  in  all  of  her  life 
before.  At  first  when  she  looked  at  it  she  felt 
that  she  must  cry.  She  thought  of  her  brother  far 
away,  for  whom  she  had  a  very  tender  regard. 
But  as  the  little  baby  was  happily  a  girl,  May 
made  it  the  idol  of  her  heart.  It  grew  quite 
rapidly,  developing  in  sweetness  day  by  day. 
May  had  not  much  work  to  do,  so  she  had  much 


Suffering  Millions.  45 

time  to  spend  with  her  little  niece  during  her 
vacations.  Mrs.  Montroville  and  William's  wife 
were  will  pleased,  as  might  be  expected,  by  the 
way  May  received  the  little  stranger.  We  will 
call  the  baby  Lulu,  although  this  wras  not  her  true 
name.  Ward  and  Mr.  Montroville  also  thought 
the  baby  very  nice.  So  many  years  had  passed 
since  there  had  been  a  baby  in  the  family  that 
the  entire  household  received  it  with  great  joy. 
As  Lulu's  mother  \vas  one  of  those  idle  women 
who  casts  her  burdens  on  some  one  else,  Mrs. 
Montroville  had  the  care  of  little  Lulu. 

"Well,  May,"  said  I,  "how  do  you  like  that 
baby  at  your  hou.-e  ? " 

"  Like  Hint  baby,''  said  May,  "  Why,  I  just  think 
it  splendid." 

u  Well,"  said  1,  "it  is  nothing  remarkable,  it  is 
only  a  baby." 

"  Only  a  baby !  Well  1  guess  you  never  saw 
one  quite  as  nice  as  it  is,  did  you?" 

"  P?ha\v  !  there  is  Mrs.  Harverland's,  with  beau- 
tiful brown  hair,  and  those  eyes!  1  hope  you 
don't  think  your  baby  half  so  nice  as  that  one  is, 
do  you  I " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  May.  "  Mrs.  Harverland's 
baby  is  not  pretty  at  all,  just  as  homely  as  it  can 
be.  Our  baby  has  beautiful  auburn  hair,  and  I  do 
believe  it  is  going  to  curl.  Oh  !  I  do  hope  it  will 
be  curly,  for  if  it  does,  then  it  will  be  the  prettiest 
baby  in  the  world.  Did  you  notice  its  eyes  I  They 


46  Suffering  Millions. 

are  the  prettiest,  laughing,  sparkling  eyes  I  ever 
saw." 

"  Well,  May,"  said  I,  "I  should  not  think  you 
could  think  so  much  of  it.  You  have  been  the  baby 
for  fourteen  or  fifteen  years.  Now  you  will  have 
to  give  all  of  your  playthings  to  it.  Besides,  all  of 
the  new  ones  will  be  bought  for  it.  You  no  longer 
are  the  baby,  now  you  will  have  to  stand  back. 
You  now  are  nothing  but  a  great  awkward  girl." 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  do.  I  never  was  half  as  nice 
as  our  baby  is,  nor  do  I  think  there  ever  was 
another  half  as  sweet  as  she  is.  The  other  day 
when  I  went  into  the  room  where  she  was  sleeping 
she  opened  her  beautiful  eyes  and  began  to  laugh, 
rubbing  her  little  nose  with  her  fist.  I  caught  her 
in  my  arms  and  as  I  was  kissing  her  she  held  on 
to  my  lips,  sucking  them  until  the  blood  nearly 
came." 

'•  Well,"  said  I,  "I  guess  she  wanted  to  punish 
you,  by  making  your  lips  bleed  for  kissing  her  so." 

u  No,  she  didn't,"  said  May.  "  She  likes  me. 
Mother  says  she  never  saw  the  like.  She  believes 
the  baby  likes  me  better  than  she  does  any  of  the 
rest.  If  anything  goes  wrong  with  her  she  will 
put  up  her  little  mouth  and  watch  me  all  the 
while,  and  want  to  come  to  me." 

"  Oh !  "  said  I,  "  she  is  making  fun  of  you.  She 
is  nothing  very  nice,  only  a  baby." 

"Weil,  she  is  ten  times  nicer  than  you  are," 
said  May,  as  she  left  the  room,  slamming  the  door 


Suffering  Millions.  47 

after  her.  In  a  few  minutes  back  she  came.  (I 
now  saw  she  had  been  thinking  about  our  conver- 
sation, and  had  become  angry  at  what  I  had  been 
saying  about  the  baby.)  "  Well,  said  she,  "  I  sup- 
pose you  think  that  baby  which  belongs  to  your 
family,  I  mean  your  aunt's  baby,  is  nice? " 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  do." 

"  It  looks  just  like  a  little  nigger.  It  is  black  as 
a  stack  of  black  cats,"  said  May.  "Our  baby  is 
just  like  a  snow-flake,  white  and  pure  and  like  a 
lily  fair." 

"Oh  !"  said  I,  "you  are  getting  poetical." 

"  I  don't  care  how  I  am  getting,"  said  May. 

"  I  am  happy  because  we  have  got  a  baby  at  our 
house.  I  never  had  a  sister  or  a  baby  to  play  with 
before.  I  always  had  to  play  with  the  boys," 
said  she. 

"  That  is  why  you  are  so  rough  and  torn- boyish," 
said  I. 

"  Perhaps,  then,"  said  May,  "  this  dear,  gentle, 
angelic  baby  will  help  to  make  me  more  ladylike. 
I  have  always  had  to  play  with  my  brothers.  I 
love  their  wild  sports." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  but  you  are  the  worst  of  the 
three.  The  other  day  as  I  passed  you  and  your 
brother  Ward  you  were  whipping  your  horse  down 
to  the  keen  run.  I  heard  Ward  say,  be  careful, 
May,  you  will  get  thrown,  your  horse  is  running' 
I  watched  you  until  you  went  over  the  hill  and 
out  of  sight." 


48  Suffering  Millions. 

"  But,  as  I  had  the  fastest  horse,  I  left  him  far 
behind." 

"  Ward  is  just  as  mischievous  as  he  can  be,"  I 
said.  "  I  noticed  that  he  had  two  little  American 
flags  in  his  horse's  bridle.  I  was  glad  to  see  that, 
for  I  do  love  a  noble,  patriotic  spirit  in  our  Amer- 
can  boys." 

"  Oh!  yes,"  said  May,  "  we  love  to  trim  up  our 
horses  to  make  them  look  nice,  and  as  we  were 
returning  we  passed  young  Crosby.  1  thought  I 
would  make  a  very  favonible  impression.  But 
Ward  gave  my  horse  a  cut  with  his  whip,  my 
horse  gave  a  spring  throwing  me  over  its  head, 
though  I  alighted  on  my  feet  the  impression  was 
a  failure.  He  ^looked  at  us  as  if  we  were  young 
Comanches." 

"  I  should  have  thought  he  would,"  said  I.  "  It 
is  a  great  wonder  you  both  do  not  get  killed." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  May, "  we  are  not  as  fraid  of  getting 
killed  as  you  are.  Don't  you  like  to  run  horses?  " 
There  would  have  been  entire  happiness  in  the 
family,  had  it  not  been  for  the  loved  one  who  was 
not  there  to  enjoy  the  quiet  and  peace  which 
reigned  in  that  household.  They  watched  the 
mail  to  hear  from  him  and  all  were  delighted  by 
receiving  letters.  William  wrote  at  every  oppor- 
tunity although  it  was  somewhat  difficult  for  him 
to  write,  as  he  had  his  two  first  fingers  from  his 
right  hand  shot  off.  Yet  he  did  the  best  he  could 
for  he  knew  his  friends  were  anxious  to  hear  from 


Suffering  Millions.  49 

him.  After  one  of  the  hard  fought  battles,  that  of 
Atlanta,  news  came  to  Mr.  Montroville  that 
William  was  mortally  wounded.  The  grief  they 
endured  was  intense.  They  anxiously  watched  the 
papers  hoping  to  learn  any  information  of  the  killed 
and  wounded.  At  last,  joyful  news  came.  A  letter 
from  William  stating  that  he  had  passed  through 
the  battle  safely,  although  many  brave  men  had 
fallen  on  that  dreadful  battle-field.  War  always 
causes  sadness  and  gloom  over  a  bleeding  country. 
People  always  speak  in  honor  of  the  brave  men 
who  will  lay  down  their  lives  for  their  country's 
sake.  Although  we  think  war  is  not  right,  yet 
when  our  country  is  invaded,  or  there  is  danger  of 
our  beloved  government,  for  which  our  forefathers 
fought  and  bled  that  we  might  have  free  and 
happy  homes  where  we  can  worship  God  accord- 
ing to  the  dictates  of  our  own  consciences,  none 
to  molest  or  make  afraid,  or  when  there  is  danger 
of  our  beautiful  stars  and  stripes  being  torn  from 
its  lofty  position  and  another  emblem  waving  in 
its  stead,  then  the  brave  will  come  forth.  And 
although  it  is  sad,  yet  it  is  noble,  for  our  country 
to  die. 


50  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  VI, 


After  four  years  of  bloodshed,  devastation,  and 
sorrow,  the  Civil  War  in  the  United  States  was  at 
an  end.  At  the  outbreak  of  the  war  the  financial 
credit  of  the  United  States  had  sunk  to  a  very  low 
ebb.  By  the  organization  of  the  army  and  navy 
the  expenses  of  the  government  were  at  once 
swelled  to  an  enormous  aggregate.  At  the  presi- 
dential election  in  the  autumn  preceding  the  down- 
fall of  the  confederacy,  Mr.  Lincoln  was  chosen 
president  for  a  second  term.  As  vice-president, 
Andrew  Johnson,  of  Tennessee,  was  elected  in 
place  of  Mr.  Hamlin.  On  the  4th  of  March,  1865, 
President  Lincoln  was  inaugurated  for  his  second 
term.  A  month  afterward  the  military  power  of 
the  confederacy  was  broken.  Three  days  after 
the  evacuation  of  Richmond  by  Lee's  army,  the 
president  visited  that  city,  conferred  with  the 
authorities,  and  then  returned  to  Washington. 

Coming  home  one  evening  from  town,  there  was 
a  look  of  sorrow  and  anxiety  on  Mr.  Monti«oville's 
face.  Said  he  to  his  wife,  "  have  you  heard  the 
sad  news?" 

"No,"  was  the  reply,  becoming  somewhat. ex- 
cited." 


Suffering  Millions.  51 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Montroville,  "  a  disreputable 
actor  at  Ford's  Theatre,  by  the  name  of  John 
Wilkes  Booth,  stole  unnoticed  into  the  president's 
box.  leveled  a  pistol  at  the  head  of  Mr.  Lincoln, 
and  shot  him  through  the  brain." 

"  Why !  for  mercy  sake !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mon- 
troville. 

"  And  killed  the  president,  continued  Mr.  Mon- 
troville. "  He  lingered  in  an  unconscious  state 
until  the  following  morning  and  died." 

"  Oh,  dear  !"  said  Mrs.  Montroville,  "  this  is  the 
greatest  tragedy  of  modern  times." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  added  Mr.  Montroville,  "  the 
most  wicked,  atrocious  and  diabolical  murder 
known  in  American  history.  And  this  was  not  all. 
At  the  same  hour  another  murderer,  named  Lewis 
Payne  Powell,  burst  into  the  bed-chamber  of  Sec- 
retary iSeward,  sprank  upon  his  couch,  and  stabbed 
him  nigh  unto  death.  The  whole  country  is  wild 
with  alarm  and  excitement.  It  is  clear  that  a  plot 
was  made  to  assassinate  the  leading  members  of 
the  government." 

Mrs.  Montroville  then  remarked:  "This  is  very 
bad  indeed.  What  will  they  now  do  without  a 
president?" 

"  Oh !"  was  the  reply,  k'  on  the  day  after  the 
assassination  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  Andrew  Johnson,  the 
vice-president,  took  the  oath  of  office,  and  became 
president." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Montroville,  "I  fear  he  will 


52  Suffering  Millions. 

not  fill  Mr.  Lincoln's  place.  He  was  born  in 
Raleigh,  North  Carolina,  you  known  that  was  my 
native  state." 

"  Why  do  you  think  he  will  not  fill  Mr.  Lincoln's 
place." 

"Mrs.  Montroville  replied,  "He  had  no  early 
advantages  of  education,  he  passed  his  boyhood  in 
poverty  and  neglect,  and  I  have  heard  his  relatives 
very  badly  spoken  of.  You  see  I  had  a  chance  to 
know  something  of  him.  He  was  born  in  1808, 
one  year  after  I  was  born." 

"  You  must  not  judge  too  harshly,  you  know  Mr. 
Lincoln  also  had  many  difficulties  to  encounter, 
but  he  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of 
any  age  or  country — a  man  in  whom  the  qualities 
of  genius  and  common-sense  were  strangely 
mingled.  He  was  prudent,  far-sighted  and  reso- 
lute." 

"In  1826,"  said  Mrs.  Montroville,  "Andrew 
Johnson  removed  with  his  mother  to  Greenville, 
Tennessee.  Here  he  married  an  intelligent  lady 
who  taught  him  to  write  and  cypher." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Montroville,  "by  dint  of 
native  talent,  force  of  will,  and  strength  of  char- 
acter, he  first  earned  the  applause  of  his  fellow- 
men,  did  he  not?" 

"  Yes,  but  in  someway,  "  said  Mrs.  Montroville, 
"  I  feel  he  is  not  the  right  man  to  fill  such  an  im- 
portant place,  and  I  do  believe  all  southern  people 
would  agree  with  me." 


Suffering  Millions.  53 

Said  Mr.  Montroville,  "  As  a  member  of  the 
LJ.  S.  Senate  in  1861,  he  opposed  secession  with  all 
of  his  zeal,  even  after  the  legislature  had  declared 
Tennessee  out  of  the  Union." 

"  I  hope  he  will  do  well,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Montroville,  "  at  least  I  think 
the  lives  of  these  two  men,  should  be  an  encour- 
agement to  the  young,  they  both  have  arisen  from 
obscurity  to  the  responsibilities  of  Chief  Magis- 
trate of  these  United  States  of  America.  I  thank 
the  great,  living  God  that  peace  has  been  declared, 
continued  he,  and  you  know  '  The  darkest  hour,  is 
just  before  day.' " 

After  the  close  of  the  war  the  poor  old  woman 
that  had  such  faith  in  the  Lord,  still  clung  to 
Providence. 

"  Well,  Sambo,"  said  Dinah,  as  she  rolled  the 
whites  of  here  eyes  heavenward,  and  while  a  smile 
wreathed  her  face,  which  showed  her  pearly  teeth. 

"  We  kno'd  de  promise  nebber  fail, 

Xor  nebber  lie  de  wo'd ; 
So  like  de  prisoner  in  de  jail, 

We  waited  for  de  Lo'd. 
An'  now  he  open  every  door 

An'  t'row  away  de  kee ; 
He  t'ink  we  lub  him  so  before, 

We  lub  him  better  free." 

"  Tanks  de  bless'd  Lo'd,"  said  Sambo,  dis  po' 
chile  waz  too  ignorent  to  t'ink  dat  he  could  eber 
see  poor  ole  wife  an'  chile,  but  one  day  looking 


54  Suffering  Millions. 

out  in  de  gloomerin'  meadows,  I  seed  som'  one 
corain'.  Who  dat?  said  I.  In  jist  one  minute 
my  po'  ole  wife  throw'd  herself  into  my  arms. 
She  had  found  our  chile,  when  de  massa  told  her 
she  waz  free,  she  at  once  came  all  de  way,  t'ro' 
night,  rain  and  win'  from  Ole  Georgia.  You  seed 
she  kno'd  whar  to  fin'.me,  but  dis  chile  den  did  not 
kno'  whar  to  look  fo'  dem.  Yes,  bless  de  Lor'd  ; 
Dey  po'  los'  sheep  ob  de  sheepfol',  dey  all  comes 
gadderin'  in." 

"  Yo'  see,  Sambo,  de  Lo'd  nebber  fail.1" 

"  Well,"  said  Sambo,  "dis  chile  am  so  blind,  be- 
kase  he  iz  so  mighty  wick'd  dat  he  could  not  at 
dat  time  hab  faith.  But  bless  de  good  Lo'd,  he 
nebber  fail." 

"  Oh  !  no,"  said  Dinnah,  "•  de  dear  Lo'd  nebber 
fail,  nor  nebber  lie  de  wo'd,  if  only  like  de  prisoner 
in  de  jail,  we  have  faith  in  his  wo'd." 

"  Well,"  said  Sambo,  "  I  did  think  yo'  lookt  like 
a  pack  of  poo'  old  fools,  prayin'  to  be  free,  bekase 
I  did  not  believe  de  Lo'd  could  do  such  a  mighty 
thing." 

"Ah!"  replied  poor  old  Dinnah,  as  she  rolled 
the  whites  of  her  eyes  heavenward,  "  did  de  dear 
Lo'd  not  lead  de  children  thro'  de  Red  Sea?  Did 
he  forsake  Jacob  when  he  wrestled  all  night?  No, 
de  dear  Lo'd  nebber  lie  de  wo'd.  De  whole  truble 
is  in  de  weakness  of  de  flesh,  bekase  we  habe  not 
de  faith  of  mustard  seed." 

Brave  men  are  always  honored,  while  cowards 


Suffering  Millions.  55 

are  always  despised,  even  by  the  lower  order  of 
animals,  but  much  more  so  by  the  human  family. 
Even  on  a  battle  field  the  enemy  will  honor  the 
brave  on  either  side,  while  cowards  are  held  in 
derision.  The  war  of  the  Great  Rebellion  was  a 
very  sad  thing  because  it  was  as  brother  against 
brother.  But  as  children  of  one  family  often 
quarrel  and  fight,  still  their  love  for  each  other  is 
intense.  So  in  this  war.  But  after  the  good  Heav- 
enly Father  severely  chastised  both  the  north,  as 
well  as  the  south,  he  then  let  the  palm  of  peace 
wave  over  our  beloved  country.  And  although 
more  than  a  score  of  years  have  passed  away,  yet 
peace  and  prosperity  still  reigns.  This  was  plainly 
seen  at  the  death  of  our  late  loved  Martyr  Presi- 
dent, James  A,.  Garfield.  Both  north  and  south 
stood  hand  in  hand,  and  wept  the  silent  tear,  and 
may  the  blessing  of  an  Allwise  God  still  continue 
to  bless  both,  as  they  stand  hand  in  hand.  Al- 
though we  were  badly  chastised,  yet  we  should  not 
complain,  for  "  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasten - 
eth."  It  was  a  long  and  bloody  war.  Many  loved 
ones  parted  there  to  meet  no  more  on  earth,  but 
as  William  Montroville  was  not  born  to  die  on  a 
battle  field,  after  passing  through  nineteen  battles 
and  skirmishes,  he  was  permitted  to  return  home 
after  the  war  closed  and  peace  was  restored,  with 
an  honorable  discharge.  He  had  been  promoted 
to  an  office  sometime  before  the  close  of  the  war, 
yet  he  always  felt  proud  of  being  called  a  soldier, 


56  Suffering  Millions. 

for  it  was  then  that  he  did  his  work  in  restoring 
the  Union.  Mr.  Mcntroville's  folks  knew  that 
peace  had  been  declared,  but  they  did  not  know 
just  when  William  would  be  at  home.  But  they 
were  anxiously  expecting  him.  At  last,  unex- 
pectedly to  all,  he  came.  He  was  so  anxious  to 
get  home,  that  he  did  not  write  to  have  any  one 
meet  him  at  the  station,  near  his  father's,  there- 
fore he  walked  home  from  the  train.  It  was  just 
about  noon  on  a  beautiful  autumn  day.  So  over- 
come was  he  with  joy  at  mteting  his  loved  ones 
that  at  first  he  could  not  speak.  He  met  his  father 
first  and  they  clasped  each  other  in  their  arms. 
"Ward,  the  younger  brother,  was  some  distance 
from  the  house,  but  he  knew  him  at  a  glance.  He 
made  one  or  two  bounds  and  in  a  moment  had  his 
brother  in  his  arms.  Next  came  May,  so  delighted 
was  she  at  seeing  her  darling  brother  once  more 
that  she  almost  smothered  him  with  kisses.  Then 
came  Mrs.  Montroville,  calm  and  quiet,  but  thank- 
ing God,  who  had  taken  care  of  her  boy  through 
an  awful  and  bloody  war  and  had  permitted  her  to 
see  him  once  more.  William's  wife  and  Lulu  were 
away  irom  home  on  a  visit,  therefore  he  did  not 
see  them  just  then.  The  family  were  so  delighted 
and  overcome  with  joy  that  a  young  lady  visiting 
at  Mrs.  Montroville's,  an  intimate  friend  of  Ward 
and  May,  especially  of  Ward,  had  to  finish  the 
dinner  that  had  already  been  begun.  The  boy 
who  went  away,  for  William  was  not  eighteen 


Suffering  Millions.  57 

years  old,  although  he  was  married,  had  grown 
into  a  man.  Three  long  years  of  war,  'neath  the 
burning  rays  of  a  southern  sun,  had  changed  his 
looks  and  had  improved  his  manly  form.  But  his 
heart  was  just  the  same.  In  afterwards  speaking 
of  their  meeting,  he  said  it  effected  him  worse  than 
the  battle's  awful  roar,  because  it  so  effected  him 
that  he  could  not  speak,  and  he  had  never  been 
effected  in  that  manner  before.  After  dinner  May 
was  anxious  to  send  for  William's  wife  so  that 
he  might  see  little  Lnlu,  as  he  had  never  seen  her, 
she  being  born  after  he  went  away.  Therefore 
Ward  went  after  them.  They  were  only  two  or 
three  miles  from  home,  so  it  did  not  take  them 
long.  This,  also,  as  might  be  expected,  was  a 
happy  meeting.  William  looked  for  the  first  time 
on  his  lovely  little  daughter.  Lulu  had  grown  to 
be  a  very  lovely  child.  Her  hair  hung  in  wavy 
ringlets  around -her  head,  with  an  angelic  look  on 
her  handsome  face.  Eyes  so  impressive  that  my 
pen  fails  to  describe  them,  and  so  gentle  was  she 
in  her  nature — so  different  from  May — and  so 
woman-like,  that  she  always  appeared  just  like  a 
little  lady.  William  and  his  wife  remained  for 
sometime  at  Mr.  Montroville's,  then  he  built  him 
a  house  near  his  father's  and  went  to  house-keep- 
ing. Now  that  peace  was  restored  things  passed 
along  quietly,  nothing  of  importance  occurring  for 
some  time.  It  was  not  far  from  William's  to  his 
father's,  so  little  Lulu  could  run  back  and  forth  as 


58  Suffering  Millions. 

much  as  she  wished.  She  was  always  a  welcome 
guest  at  her  grandpa's,  a  fact  she  well  knew. 
When  she  had  been  away  for  sometime  she  would 
walk  in  triumphantly,  clapping  her  little  hands 
and  say,  u  Dranpa !  I's  dot  home !"  well  knowing 
that  all  were  so  delighted  to  have  her  there  that 
they  could  not  bear  to  have  her  away.  William 
never  lorgot  his  days  in  the  south.  He  delighted 
to  talk  and  dwell  on  them.  He  would  often  spend 
the  long  winter  evenings  at  his  father's  talking  of 
the  dashing  scenes  of  war.  Although  he  did  not 
like  to  have  people  killed,  yet  there  was  something 
about  it  that  was  animating  to  his  nature.  Mr. 
Montroville  made  an  idol  of  William.  He  could  not 
bear  to  have  him  away  from  his  side.  He  seemed* 
to  feast  upon  his  society,  as  he  was  his  first  born. 


Suffering  Millions.  59 


CHAPTER  VII, 


After  William  went  to  housekeeping,  his  par- 
ents, and  Ward  and  May  were  somewhat  lonesome, 
but  little  Lulu  visited  them  very  often.  Mrs. 
Montroville  had  some  relics  of  her  southern  home, 
among  them  was  a  side-saddle,  a  gift  from  her 
father.  In  her  day  in  the  south  it  was  fashionable 
for  women  to  ride  horse  back.  The  southern  peo- 
ple were  a  sport  loving  people.  She  often  loved  to 
tell  of  the  gay  times  she  had  when  a  girl  nway 
down  in  the  sunny  south.  She  would  tell  of 
meeting  with  girls  of  her  own  age,  then  taking 
their  fathers'  race  horses,  and  go,  when  they 
thought  no  one  would  see  them,  to  the  race  paths 
where  the  men  trained  and  ran  their  horses, 
and  there  try  their  skill  at  speeding  them.  This 
may  not  seem  right  to  some,  but  in  those  days  in 
the  south  things  were  looked  upon  differently  than 
they  are  now.  Nevertheless  she  enjoyed  such 
sport,  and  as  southern  people  in  her  day  owned 
slaves  to  do  their  work  they  had  to  exercise  in 
some  way,  and  although  this  might  look  a  little 
rude  to  some  in  these  days,  but  then  in  the  south 
the  young  lady  most  skilled  as  a  horseback  rider 
was  thought  to  be  fine.  May  received  from  her 
mother  a  love  for  such  sport.  She  became  expert 


60  Suffering  Millions. 

as  a  horseback  rider  and  feared  no  horse.  As  the 
country  was  new  with  forests  of  breezy  trees  all 
around,  she  delighted  in  riding  as  fast  as  she  could 
go.  She  and  Ward  would  often  ride  out  together, 
and  as  he  was  full  of  mischief,  he  would  try  her 
skill  at  running  horses.  This  she  could  do  as  well 
as  he,  except  in  standing  on  the  horse's  back, 
which  was  a  feat  she  could  not  accomplish,  while 
he  could  ride  in  that  manner  as  fast  as  the  horse  . 
could  go.  He  was  so  full  of  mischief  that  some- 
times when  she  was  not  expecting  it  he  would  give 
her  horse  a  cut  with  the  whip,  which  would  cause 
it  to  spring  from  under  her  and  she  would  alight 
on  the  ground.  But  this  she  thought  nothing  of 
as  she  was  fortunate  in  never  getting  hurt.  As 
strange  as  it  now  will  seem,  she  often  had  horses 
run  with  her  and  was  often  thrown  off  but  never 
hurt.  I  saw  a  horse  run  with  her  one  time,  and 
every  moment  I  expected  her  to  be  killed.  There 
were  visiting  at  her  home  a  gentleman  and  his  wife 
who  came  on  horseback.  They  tied  their  horses 
at  her  father's  gate  and  went  into  the  house.  May 
thought  now  was  her  chance  for  a  horseback  ride. 
She  therefore  untied  one  of  the  horses  and  went 
to  a  neighbor's  house  about  a  half  mile  from  her 
home  to  see  a  sick  lady  of  whom  she  thought  a 
great  deal.  When  she  got  there  she  tied  her  horse 
and  went  into  the  house.  The  horses  were  fine, 
large,  black  ones  that  fairly  disdained  the  ground 
they  walked  upon.  As  the  distance  was  not  very 


Suffering  Millions.  61 

far  the  horse  which  she  tied  at  her  friend's  gate 
could  see  its  mate  at  her  father's  gate.  This  made 
the  animal  so  impatient  that  it  reared  and  pitched 
to  get  back  to  the  other  horse.  A  gentleman  vis- 
iting at  the  house  untied  the  horse  and  held  it 
until  May  was  ready  to  go  home.  He  told  her  she 
had  better  be  a  little  careful,  but  she  never 
thought  of  fear,  and  as  everybody  knew,  was  a 
fine  rider.  He  helped  her  on  the  horse,  but  when 
she  got  on  it  reared  up  in  the  air  and  stood  on  its 
hind  feet.  The  man,  somewhat  excited,  told  May 
to  let  the  reins  loose.  This  she  did,  but  the  frac- 
tious horse  took  the  bifs  in  its  mouth,  and  she 
therefore  was  as  one  upon  the  water  in  a  boat 
without  an  oar.  The  horse  dashed  away  at  full 
speed.  As  the  road  was  newly  made  there  were 
stumps  of  trees  on  either  side.  The  animal  did 
not  keep  the  road  but  flew  along  among  those 
stumps  with  all  its  might.  May  said  she  expected 
every  moment  to  land  against  a  tree,  as  she  could 
no  more  guide  the  horse  than  she  could  an  angry 
tiger.  She  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  take  her 
foot  out  of  the  stirrup.  By  this  time  the  horse 
tied  at  her  father's  gate  had  broken  loose  and 
come  to  meet  the  other  one,  with  one  of  the  rails 
of  the  fence  still  tied  to  its  bridle,  which  in  its 
speed  swung  from  one  side  of  the  road  to  the 
other.  Her  folks  by  this  time  saw  her  situation 
and  ran  to  her  assistance  with  all  of  their  might. 
In  passing  her  brother  William's  house,  little  Lulu 


62  Suffering  Millions. 

saw  May,  and  all  breathless  thought  she  would 
do  all  she  could,  and  ran  towards  her  grandpa's 
house,  but  the  horse  in  its  speed  left  the  little 
girl  i'ar  behind.  For  once  May  saw  death  stare 
her  in  the  face.  To  remain  on  the  horse  she  knew 
would  be  almost  certain  death,  so  she  with  one 
tremendous  bound  sprang  from  the  horse,  and  in 
doing  so  caught  it  by  the  bridle.  The  other  horse 
was  only  a  few  rods  away  but  the  gentleman 
who  owned  the  horses  was  now  by  her  side.  He 
said,  "  Hold  the  horse  if  you  can  until  I  get  there." 
And  this  May  did,  for  she  knew  that  it  was  her 
fault,  and  if  the  horses  should  get  away  they 
would  go  to  their  home,  which  was  fifteen  miles 
distant.  That  she  well  knew  would  make  lots  of 
trouble.  Soon  little  Lulu  arrived  all  out  of  breath 
and  excited  to  tell  grandma  of  May's  narrow 
escape.  L-.ilu  was  very,  very  much  attached  to 
May  although  so  different  in  disposition.  A  great 
many  other  just  such  narrow  escapes  as  this,  did 
May  pass  through,  being  thrown  from  horses  or 
having  them  run  with  her,  and  yet  for  some  unseen 
purpose  God  in  his  mercy  spared  her  life.  But  as 
"  God's  ways  are  not  our  ways,"  and  "  His  thoughts 
are  not  our  thoughts,"  still  in  his  own  good  time 
he  doeth  all  things  well. 

Ward  I  do  not  know  as  much  about  as  I  do  of 
May,  although  I  know  he  was  just  as  full  of  mis- 
chief and  more  daring  if  anything.  I  remember 
one  time  that  he  and  May  were  playing  with 


Suffering  Millions.  63 

matches,  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Montroville  were  not 
at  home.  It  was  many,  many  years  ago,  and  while 
they  were  very  young.  They  started  a  fire  in  the 
edge  of  a  little  hay  marsh  for  the  sport  of  whip- 
ping it  out,  and  then  setting  it  on  fire  again,  just 
for  the  fun  of  it.  Finally  there  came  a  gust  of 
wind  that  sent  the  fire  beyond  their  control.  This 
scared  the  children,  yet  the  thing  was  done.  The 
fire  swept  along  like  the  speed  of  lightning.  The 
little  marsh  joined  a  large  hay  marsh,  and  the  fire 
ran  for.  miles  and  miles.  This  reminds  me  that 
no  doubt  often  large  fires  are  kindled  and  a  great 
deal  of  mischief  often  done  through  the  careless- 
ness of  children,  who  are  only  at  play.  Of  course 
Ward  and  May  were  frightened  almost  to  death, 
yet  they  could  not  help  it  then.  They  only 
did  it  for  fun,  never  dreaming  of  the  mischief 
it  would  cause.  At  another  time  Ward  wished 
to  take  his  sister  sleigh  riding.  He  happened 
to  have  no  sleigh,  so  he  thought  he  would 
arrange  one  of  his  own  planning.  I  do  not 
know  just  how  he  arranged  it,  but  I  know  that  he 
had  no  thills  to  his  sleigh.  So  he  hitched  the  horse 
to  the  sleigh  with  the  tugs  of  the  harness.  The 
horse  he  drove  was  a  fast  one  that  ran  away  every 
chance  it  had.  But  it  made  no  difference  to  him. 
He  was  not  one  of  the  kind  of  boys  who  was 
afraid  of  anything.  It  was  fine  sleighing  so  they 
started.  They  thought  they  would  take  one  of 
the  neighbor's  girls  with  them.  But  the  mother 


64  Suffering  Millions. 

of  the  little  girl  did  not  like  the  looks  of  the 
vehicle  and  did  not  let  her  go.  But  Ward  and 
May  thought  it  all  right,  they  went  up  and  down 
hills  with  such  speed  that  the  tugs  worked  well. 
When  about  two  miles  from  home  they  happened 
to  notice  their  father,  who  had  been  away  from 
home,  coming  toward  them.  They  knew  he  would 
not  approve  of  what  they  were  doing,  so  in  their 
haste  to  turn  around  the  tugs  did  not  work  well. 
They  of  course  were  not  stiff  like  thills,  and  the 
sleigh  upset  frightening  the  horse  and  causing  it 
to  run  away.  Ward  and  May  were  thrown  out, 
but  Ward  was  too  expert  to  let  the  horse  get  away 
from  him.  He  held  on  to  the  lines,  narrowly 
escaping  being  struck  by  a  stump  of  a  tree. 
Finally  he  succeeded  in  stopping  the  horse  and 
they  got  on  the  sleigh  again.  Ward  let  the  horse 
out,  for  well  he  knew  that  his  father  would  not 
approve  of  such  work.  But  before  they  got  home 
the  horse  ran  away  again.  And  still  God  in  his 
mercy  spared  their  lives.  Many  other  times  did 
they  pass  through  just  such  tricks.  I  remember 
at  one  time,  when  Ward  was  quite  young,  his 
father  was  away  from  home  and  there  were  some 
young  men  at  their  house.  One  of  them  thought, 
because  Ward  was  little  he  could  do  as  he  pleased 
with  him.  He  therefore  stopped  him  and  threw 
him  on  the  ground,  and  hurt  him  in  many 
ways.  Ward  stood  it  as  long  as  he  could,  but 
at  last  forbearance  ceased  to  be  a  virtue.  His 


Suffering  Millions.  65 

southern  blood  burned  in  his  veins  and  he  sprang 
for  his  father's  rifle.  The  young  man  saw  venge- 
ance in  his  eye,  and  knew  on  the  impulse  of  the 
moment  something  must  be  done,  and  started  to 
run  turning  the  corner  of  the  house,  and  just  as  he 
did  so  Ward  shot,  tearing  a  hole  through  the 
house.  But  as  some  unseen  hand  stayed  the  ball, 
the  young  man's  life  was  spared.  Of  course  as 
soon  as  it  was  done  Ward  was  very  sorry.  The 
young  man  knew  he  was  himself  to  blame  and  at 
once  made  friends  with  Ward.  I  only  speak  of 
this  to  show  how  careful  a  person  should  be  with 
a  child.  When  they  are  young  they  will  in  haste 
do  things  that  they  would  not  do  in  after  life  for 
anything  in  the  world.  In  just  one  moment  after 
Ward  shot  he  would  not  have  done  it  for  any- 
thing. He  loved  the  young  man  before,  and  also 
afterward.  He  only  did  it  on  the  impulse  of  the 
moment  and  would  not  have  killed  him  for  all  this 
world,  had  it  all  been  gold.  No  doubt  there  is 
many  a  person  to-day  wasting  life  away  in  prison 
that  acted  just  as  this  boy  did,  on  the  impulse  of 
a  moment.  May  God  in  his  great  mercy  stay  the 
hand  of  any  child  that  attempts  to  do  a  wrong 
thing.  He  does  not  always  do  so.  No  doubt  he 
did  it  this  time  that  some  good  might  come  out 
of  it. 

One  day,  at  Mrs.  Bradbury's,  we  were  speaking 
of  the  Montroville  children :    "  Well,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradberry,  "did  you  ever  see   such  children  as 
5 


66  Suffering  Millions. 

those  Montroville  children  are  ?  They  fairly  set 
me  wild.  I  do  believe  they  are  the  worst  chil- 
dren I  ever  saw." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry,  "wife,  I  don't 
know  about  it.  They  only  give  vent  to  their 
nature.  They  mean  all  right." 

"  All  right,  indeed !  I  should  think  they  did. 
The  other  day  when  I  was  there  visiting," 
replied  Mrs.  Bradberry,  "  Ward,  that  mischievous 
little  rascal,  caught  a  cat  and  tied  a  rattlebox  to 
her  tail,  and  then  she  went  squalling  enough  to 
deafen  everybody." 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha  ! "  laughed  Mr.  Bradberry,  "  That 
boy  always  puts  me  in  mind  of  Putnam,  the  Gen- 
eral, I  mean.  You  remember  the  story  about  him, 
when  only  a  boy,  climbing  the  tree  after  a  bird's 
nest,  and  the  limb  broke  quite  off,  letting  him  fall, 
but  not  to  the  ground.  His  fall  was  arrested  by 
one  of  the  lower  branches  of  the  tree,  which 
caught  in  his  pantaloons,  and  held  him  suspended 
in  .mid  air  with  his  head  downward.  *  Put,  are 
you  hurt  ? '  cried  one  of  the  boys.  '  Not  hurt,' 
answered  the  undaunted  boy, l  but  puzzled  how  to 
get  down.'  At  last  he  cried  to  a  boy  equally  as 
brave  as  himself,  and  who  afterwards  fought 
bravely  by  Gen.  Putnam's  side, '  Randall,  shoot 
me  down.'  Crack,  rang  the  sound  of  Randall's 
rifle  and  Putnam  fell  to  the  ground." 

"  It  is  a  shame  for  boys  to  act  so,"  said  Mrs. 
Bradberry. 


Suffering  Millions.  67 

"  Well,  it  does  seem  so,"  replied  Mr.  Bradberry, 
"but  nevertheless  none  of  your  sleepy  boys  for 
me.  A  boy  ought  to  run,  jump,  play,  climb,  yell." 

"Well,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Bradberry,  "Ward 
Montroville  must  be  a  real  boy.  Why,  I  saw  him 
climb  a  great  tall  tree,  just  like  a  squirrel,  turn 
hand-springs,  and  run  a  horse  as  fast  as  he  could 
go,  standing  on  its  back. 


68  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  VIII, 


I  do  not  know  but  the  reader  will  think  me  di- 
gressing from  my  subject,  yet  my  intention  in 
writing  this  story  is,  if  it  is  possible  for  me  to  do 
so,  to  bring  out  the  great  truth  of  home  influence 
in  the  rearing  of  children.  It  has  been  my  privi- 
lege for  a  number  of  years,  to  be  a  close  observer 
of  the  training  of  children,  and  my  mind  has  been 
so  terribly  pained — oftimes  to  see  bright  and  in- 
telligent children,  who,  had  they  been  well  edu- 
cated and  trained  aright,  would  have  been  a  great 
blessing  to  the  world  and  to  humanity,  yet  on 
account  of  their  early  teaching  have  often  filled 
drunkard's  or  pauper's  graves,  or  at  least  led  lives 
of  wickedness.  May  God  in  his  mercy  help  us  as 
a  people  to  "raise  the  blood-stained  banner  of 
Prince  Emanuel,"  that  we  may  be  missionaries  in 
our  own  beloved  America,  to  save  the  rising  gen- 
eration. Of  course,  in  well  regulated  families  the 
children  are  protected  from  many  things,  but  in 
families  that  are  not  so  well  regulated  such  is  not 
the  case.  The  mind  of  a  child  is  easily  influenced 
by  those  with  whom  it  is  brought  in  contact.  I 
think  the  first  impressions  of  a  child  are  good  and 
pure.  Although  we  are  born  naturally  sinful,  yet, 
Adam  and  Eve  did  not  sin  until  they  were 


Suffering  Millions.  69 

tempted ;  therefore,  if  temptation  had  not  been  in 
their  way  they  would  not  have  sinned.  Although 
they  should  have  overcome  temptation.  A  child, 
when  surrounded  by  wicked  and  bad  influences 
will  readily  take  to  those  things  that  it  should  not. 
One  or  two  of  the  most  truthful  children  I  ever 
saw,  while  very  young  were  surrounded  by  bad 
influences.  I  soon  noticed  a  change  in  the  little 
ones,  who  soon  became  rough,  bad,  and  also  un- 
truthful. I  think  if  those  children  had  been 
raised  by  good  and  pure  people  they  would  have 
been  the  purest  of  earth's  children.  Perhaps  I 
can  express  the  idea  that  I  am  trying  to  express 
better  and  more  plainly  by  an  other  figure.  You 
may  take  a  French  child,  or  a  child  of  any  other 
country,  and  place  it  in  an  English  family.  It 
makes  no  difference  whether  its  parents  could 
speak  one  word  of  English  or  not,  unless  the  child 
is  deaf  and  dumb,  it  will  speak  the  English 
language.  Just  so  you  may  take  the  child  of 
wicked  and  uneducated  people,  and  place  it  with 
good  people,  let  it  be  educated  and  well  trained, 
and  nine  cases  out  of  ten  the  child  will  be  like  the 
people  who  raised  it.  We  often  see  good  Christian 
people  who  have  bad  children,  for  which  I  think 
there  is  always  a  cause.  Some  times  it  is  because 
they  indulge  their  children  too  much.  But  if  you 
give  it  close  attention  you  will  surely  find  some 
cause. 
Eunice  Williams,  who  was  taken  captive  by 


70  Suffering  Millions. 

savages  of  Canada  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
years  ago,  was  the  daughter  of  a  most  saintly 
minister,  of  the  old  Puritan  stamp.  But  a  very 
few  years  of  savage  life  made  her  a  savage.  Her 
mind  was  cut  off  from  all  culture  and  good  society, 
and  could  only  tend  to  savage  ways.  She  retained 
a  knowledge  of  her  history,  and  many  years  after 
her  capture  revisited  her  home,  accompanied  by 
her  dusky  husband  ;  but  no  persuasion  could  tempt 
her  to  give  up  her  savage  life. 

"  Well,"  said  a  friend  to  whom  I  was  speaking, 
"I  don't  know  about  the  duty  of  parents  to  their 
children.  If  they  are  going  to  be  bad  they  will  be 
so  any  way." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  I,  "  my  dear  friend,  you  might 
just  as  well  say  a  man  might  plant  a  garden,  and 
never  cultivate  it  at  all.  He  could  say  if  it  is  going 
to  be  a  good  garden  it  will  be  so,  any  way ;  but 
will  it,  if  not  tended?" 

My  friend  replied,  u  now  there  is  old  preacher 

S 's  children.  Just  look,  if  you  please,  at 

them.  They  are  the  worst  children  in  the  whole 
neighborhood.  They  swear,  steal  and  lie.  What 
can  you  say  about  them  ?  You  will  surely  admit 
that  their  father  is  a  good  man." 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  will,  but  nevertheless  he  both 
neglects  and  indulges  his  children  too  much.  You 
know  the  bible  says, '  spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the 
child,'  but  it  does  not  say  to  use  the  rod  unless  it 
is  necessary.  Again  it  says, '  train  up  a  child  in 


Suffering  Millions.  71 

the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will 
not  depart  from  it.'  " 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  my  friend,  "•  I  do  believe 
that  ministers  of  the  Gospel  have  just  the  worst 
children  in  the  world,  now  don't  you?" 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  I  do  not.  I  know  we  often  hear 
the  expression  that  preachers'  children  are  worse 
than  any  other  children,  but  we  do  not  think  this 
is  always  true.  If  it  were  true,  I  think  there 
would  be  a  very  good  cause  for  it.  Ministers  have 
to  be  away  from  home  much  of  the  time.  Their 
children  are  exposed  to  all  kinds  of  society.  They 
are  humored  and  petted  by  many  people,  and 
scolded  at  and  despised  by  others ;  therefore,  I 
think  there  are  good  reasons  why  ministers'  chil- 
dren naturally  have  many  temptations  to  en- 
counter, and  yet  I  do  believe  if  you  will  watch 
them  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  you  will  find 
that  most  of  them  make  good  men  and  women, 
and  that  they  have  to  bear  a  great  many  cruel  and 
unkind  remarks  from  people  who  like  to  slur  the 
ministry.  Yet  I  believe  in  cause  and  effect,  and 
the  same  thing  is  true  of  a  minister's  child,  as  well 
as  any  other." 


72  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  IX, 


May  was  very  young  when  she  began  teaching 
school,  and  she  looked  upon  it  as  a  fine  event 
in  her  life,  being  but  a  child  in  years.  Possess- 
ing a  warm  and  impulsive  nature,  she  won  many 
hearts  to  her.  She  did  quite  well  in  her  school, 
although  had  she  in  her  early  years  been  taught 
the  necessity  of  obedience,  and  the  noble  traits 
that  go  to  make  a  success  in  life,  how  much  better 
she  might  have  done. 

We  will  here  describe  May.  She  was  about 
medium  size ;  with  black  eyes  and  hair,  and  a 
dark  complexion.  Her  hair  she  wore  in  heavy 
braids  that  hung  far  below  her  waist.  She  was 
only  seventeen,  possessing  a  very  romantic  nature, 
and  had  always  been  indulged  in  having  her  own 
way.  She  soon  formed  many  new  acquaintances. 
Life  began  to  have  many  new  charms  for  her. 
She  enjoyed  the  many  new  changes. 

As  I  had  formed  quite  an  attachment  to  May, 
and  felt  very  much  interested  in  her  welfare.  I 
thought  I  would  visit  her  at  her  school.  It  was 
noon  when  I  arrived  and  I  found  May  alone  in  the 
school  house,  while  the  children  were  at  play  in 
the  yard. 

"  Oh,  how  delighted  I  am  to  see  you,"  said  May. 


Suffering  Millions.  73 

"  I  thought  perhaps  ryou  would  be  lonesome, 
away  as  you  are  among  strangers,  so  I  thought  I 
would  come  and  see  you." 

"  Oh,  I  am  very  glad  you  came,  but  I  am  not 
one  bit  lonesome.  I  am  having  just  splendid 
times." 

"•  I  am  glad  to  know  you  are  happy  and  enjoy- 
ing yourself.  But  May  you  are  young,  and  away 
among  strangers,  you  must  be  a  little  careful  how 
you  conduct  yourself." 

"  Oh,"  said  May,  "  do  not  worry  one  bit  about 
me,  I  am  very  capable  of  taking  care  of  myself. 
You  know  I  am  a  teacher,  and  of  course  I  am 
capable  of  doing  as  I  please." 

"  Well,  how  are  you  getting  along  with  your 
school  ? " 

"  Quite  well,  but  I  don't  care  quite  as  much 
about  teaching  as  I  thought  I  should  ;  but  I  am 
just  perfectly  enchanted  with  the  young  people 
around  here,  they  are  just  fine.  Oh  !  I  tell  you  I 
am  having  grand  times." 

I  could  plainly  see  in  May's  dark  eyes,  that 
there  was  some  great  attraction  among  the  young 
people.  "  Well  May,"  said  I,  "  you  are  young  and 
away  from  home,  now  you  must  remember,  'All 
is  not  gold  that  glitters.' " 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  May,  "  you  are  always  preach- 
ing a  sermon.  I  know  I  can  take  care  of  myself. 
I  am  sure  a  girl  seventeen  years  old  is  just  as  able 
to  care  for  herself  as  she  ever  will  be." 


74  Suffering  Millions. 

"  I  know  they  should  be ;  yet  some  girls  are 
more  capable  at  ten  than  some  at  your  age." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,  I  am  having  fine  times  and 
I  hope  you  will  not  say  one  word  to  mar  my  hap- 
piness. Oh,  dear  me !  "  continued  May,  "  I  do 
wish  you  could  know  how  much  fun  I  have.  I  am 
just  perfectly  happy.  Tell  mother  not  to  worry 
one  bit  about  me,  for  I  will  get  along  alright." 

No  wonder  she  was  happy,  for  it  was  beautiful 
scenery  that  surrounded  her  on  every  side.  The 
school  house  was  situated  in  just  the  right  place 
for  one  of  her  nature  to  enjoy.  To  the  right  and 
rear  of  it,  almost  up  to  the  windows  was  a  fine 
forest  of  beautiful  trees,  and  it  being  just  the  be- 
ginning of  spring,  all  nature  seemed  grand.  My 
heart  was  almost  overcome  by  the  grandeur  of 
nature.  The  wild  bird  warbled  its  thrilling  notes 
amid  the  lofty  trees,  and  flitted  with  joyful  melody 
on  either  side.  In  front  of  the  school  house  broad 
fields  stretched  far  westward  and  before  her  school 
closed  they  were  covered  with  golden  grain  that 
waved  on  the  summer  breeze.  Everything  looked 
so  grand  that  her  heart  constantly  beat  with  wild 
admiration.  She  had  not  been  teaching  long  be- 
fore she  formed  the  acquaintance  of  a  young  man 
to  whom  she  soon  became  much  attached.  He 
was  most  elegant  in  form,  with  handsome,  spark- 
ling eyes,  and  teeth  of  pearly  whiteness,  just  her 
ideal  of  manly  beauty.  He  being  much  older 
than  she  and  more  experienced  in  the  ways  of  the 


Suffering  Millions.  75 

world,  did  all  in  his  power  to  win  the  heart  of 
May.  We  will  call  him  William  Bryant.  They 
spent  hours  together,  either  at  her  boarding  place 
or  taking  walks  picking  wild  flowers,  or  in  sitting 
in  shady  groves.  He  looked  upon  her  as  almost  a 
child  in  years.  But  still  his  heart  went  out  in 
love  and  admiration  for  her  wild  and  dauntless 
though  childlike  ways.  She  had  not  known  much 
of  life's  sorrows ;  all  then  was  joy  and  happiness. 
The  earth,  to  her,  seemed  almost  a  heaven.  As 
she  spent  hours  listening  to  his  words  of  love  or 
as  she  slipped  her  hand  in  his,  he  would  breathe 
words  of  tenderest  love  into  her  ear. 

He  was  constantly  by  her  side.  He  could  not 
bear  to  have  any  of  the  other  young  men,  who 
would  gladly  have  taken  his  place  in  May's  af- 
fections, share  her  company.  He  seemed  con- 
stantly to  feast  upon  her  society  and  the  days 
passed  happily  away.  I  will  here  mention  one 
walk  they  took.  He  called  at  her  boarding  place 
one  beautiful  Sunday  afternoon  and  asked  her  to 
take  a  walk  with  him.  After  wandering  about 
for  some  time,  and  becoming  considerably  tired, 
they  sat  down  under  the  shade  of  a  tree.  The  sun 
was  just  setting,  and  threw  its  rays  of  light 
around  them.  The  sky  was  clear  above  and  the 
soft  breezes  played  among  the  leaves  in  the  trees 
over  their  heads!  Every  thing  seemed  grand  and 
sublime  and  threw  a  magic  spell  around  them. 
Their  hearts  were  filled  with  joy  and  happiness. 


76  Suffering  Millions. 

A  sweet  silence  seemed  to  reign  as  if  an  angel 
hovered  about  them.  Earth,  just  now,  had  no  sor- 
row for  them,  for  earth's  sweetest  love  filled  their 
hearts.  Happy  indeed  was  May  as  Mr.  Bryant 
took  her  hand  in  his  and  looking  with  tender  love 
into  her  eyes,  asked  her  to  become  his  wife.  Too 
happy  to  answer  him  just  then,  because  of  the 
love  that  filled  her  breast,  yet  she  became  his  be- 
trothed. They  sat  for  some  time  enjoying  the 
silence  that  reigned,  and  then  softly  wandered 
back  to  May's  boarding  place,  little  dreaming  of 
the  sorrow  they  were  going  to  pass  through  in 
after  life. 

The  summer  passed  away,  bearing  much  pleas- 
ure and  happiness  with  it.  Finally  the  last  day 
of  school  came,  as  all  things  have  to  come  to  an 
end,  and  these  days  too  happy  to  last,  at  last  were 
ended.  The  parting  was  very  tender.  Hard  in- 
deed it  was  for  May  to  leave  the  place  where  she 
had  enjoyed  herself  so  much.  One  mistake  no 
doubt  which  May  made  was  on  account  of  her 
age.  She  set  the  time  of  her  marriage  in  the  far 
away  future.  Perhaps 'if  they  had  then  been  mar- 
ried all  would  have  ended  well,  but  May  was 
young  and  looked  forward  to  accomplish  much 
with  her  education.  She  wanted  to  enjoy  young 
society  and  did  not  care  to  become  a  married  wo- 
man so  young.  This  I  think  was  alright,  but  I 
doubt  the  propriety  of  so  young  a  girl  being  al- 
lowed to  place  her  affections  on  a  young  man. 


Suffering  Millions.  77 

Mothers  do  wrong  in  permitting  their  girls  to  ac- 
cept of  steady  company  so  young. 

After  she  closed  her  school  she  returned  home, 
but  there  was  an  aching  void.  A  sadness  filled 
her  heart.  Although  glad  to  see  her  friends  again 
yet  her  home  did  not  seem  as  it  did  in  days  of 
yore.  Her  mother  tried  to  make  things  pleasant, 
but  her  heart  constantly  sighed  for  other  scenes 
and  for  friends  far  away.  She  was  naturally 
proud  and  knew  full  well  that  her  folks  were 
poor.  This  she  felt  all  the  more  keenly  from 
the  fact  that  early  in  life  her  father  had  been 
quite  wealthy,  having  everything  at  that  time  to 
make  life  pleasant.  But  it  was  not  so  since  his 
reverse  in  fortune.  This  hurt  and  pained  her  so 
much  that  she  felt  she  could  not  have  her  lover, 
the  one  on  whom  her  entire  happiness  depended, 
come  to  see  her,  for  his  people  were  well  off,  and 
possessed  everything  to  make  life  pleasant.  She 
knew  that  it  would  make  a  difference  with  them. 
She  knew  that  he  had  a  vain,  proud-hearted 
mother  who  desired  that  her  son  should  marry  for 
wealth  and  position.  This  she  keenly  felt,  and 
although  as  much  as  she  loved  him,  she  felt  she 
could  not  have  him  come  to  see  her.  She  loved 
her  own  folks  and  felt  veiy  sorry  for  them,  for  she 
knew  it  was  no  fault  of  theirs  that  they  were  now 
so  poor.  Yet  she  felt  that  it  would  almost  kill  her 
for  him  to  know  of  her  poverty.  She  also  felt 
that  wealth  and  influence  have  a  great  deal  to  do 


78  Suffering  Millions. 

in  securing  friends  in  this  sinful  world.  Weeks 
rolled  into  months  and  still  she  did  not  see  him, 
only  hearing  from  him  through  the  mail.  Her 
heart  constantly  sighed  for  him,  and  she  longed  to 
once  more  be  folded  in  his  arms  and  to  listen  to 
his  words  of  tender  love.  Tears  would  blind  her 
eyes  as  she  thought  of  happy  days  gone  by. 

After  months  had  passed,  unexpectedly  he  came 
to  see  her.  She  met  him  and  naturally  as  might 
have  been  expected  was  very  much  pleased  at 
seeing  him  again,  although  she  was  very  much 
embarrassed  at  his  becoming  acquainted  with  the 
fact  her  family  were  poor.  If  at  this  time  she  had 
been  able  to  ask  the  assistance  of  the  One  that 
can  heal  all  sorrows,  the  One  that  gave  His  life  a 
ransom  for  the  sins  of  this  wicked  world,  and  had 
looked  to  Him,  she  could  have  been  better  able  to 
have  borne  the  sorrow  of  this  embarrassment.  But 
she  could  not  say  Thy  will  be  done,  for  she  did  not 
know  at  this  time  how  to  thus  be  comforted. 
After  making  his  visit,  he  bade  her  farewell,  and 
returned  to  his  home.  She  went  to  her  room  and 
wept  bitterly.  She  thought  this  visit  might  be  the 
last  one  that  she  would  ever  enjoy  with  him.  Yet 
she  knew  he  loved  her  more  than  any  one  else,  but 
she  thought  that  his  friends  desired  him  to  marry 
some  wealthy  lady.  Being  proud  and  ambitious, 
this  pained  her  very  much.  After  his  return  home 
she  received  several  letters  from  him,  but  once  or 
twice  she  heard,  through  communications  from 


Suffering  Millions.  79 

other  friends,  that  he  was  paying  attention  to 
another  lady,  one  of  wealth,  and  one  who  suited 
his  mother  very  much.  Yet  in  his  heart  he  could 
not  forget  the  girl  he  truly  loved  better  than  all 
else  in  this  world.  But  being  rather  sickly,  and 
influenced  by  his  friends,  he  gradually  crushed  the 
memory  of  the  one  he  loved.  Months  rolled  by, 
and  still  he  spent  much  time  with  the  lady  of 
wealth,  and  no  doubt  forming  some  attachment 
for  her.  Kindly  he  wrote  to  May  that  his  health 
was  very  poor,  that  he  would  never  marry,  and  for 
her  to  write  him  a  farewell  letter.  This  pierced 
her  heart  through  and  through.  She  tried  often 
to  write  him  a  letter  and  tell  him  that  her  heart 
was  breaking,  that  she  could  not  give  him  up,  but 
the  tears  would  blind  her  eyes  and  she  could  not 
write.  Her  grief  was  almost  more  than  she  could 
bear.  At  times  her  proud  nature  would  assert 
itself,  and  she  would  think  :  "  If  this  is  all  he  cares 
for  me  I  will  give  him  up,"  but  it  was  easier  thus 
to  think  than  it  was  to  do.  There  came  over  her 
mind  a  sad  and  melancholy  gloom,  which  she 
could  not  shake  off.  The  world  to  her  had  lost  all 
of  its  sweetness.  So  very  young,  yet  her  heart 
had  lost  all  its  joy.  Nothing  but  sadness  filled  her 
mind.  IN  one  of  the  joy  of  youth  filled  her  heart. 
She  was  gradually  wasting  her  life  away.  She 
tried  sometimes  to  rally,  and  again  enjoy  youth 
and  happiness,  but  this  she  could  not  do.  The 
world  seemed  to  have  lost  all  of  its  happiness. 


80  Suffering  Millions. 

Ah !  then  she  remembered  that  the  world  at  large 
sought  the  bible  for  comfort  and  peace.  She  then 
began  to  read  this  holy  book,  to  see  if  she  could 
find  comfort  there,  and  as  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
she  found  no  comfort  there.  This  was  because  she 
read  it  as  she  would  have  read  any  other  book. 
She  did  not  read  it  with  the  spirit  of  understand- 
ing, nor  a  faith  that  will  not  shrink,  though  pressed 
by  every  foe.  After  reading  the  blessed  bible,  one 
or  two  chapters  every  day,  for  over  one  year,  and 
still  remaining  sad  and  despondent,  receiving  no 
comfort  from  it,  there  began  to  hover  around  her 
mind  a  darkness  that  almost  caused  her  ruin  for 
time  and  eternity.  She  began  to  gradually  lose  all 
faith  in  the  bible,  and  the  things  that  truly  go  to 
make  a  happy  life.  She  leaned  entirely  upon  her 
own  weakness  to  gain  strength.  If  she  had  said 
within  herself, "  Here  Lord,  I  give  myself  to  thee, 
it  is  all  that  I  can  do,"  then  would  she  have  gained 
strength.  But  this  she  did  not  do.  She  did  not 
understand  how  to  gain  strength  and  comfort  from 
reading  the  Holy  bible.  She  therefore  began  to 
disbelieve  its  teachings.  She  did  not  receive  the 
peace  that  it  spoke  of.  All  was  darkness.  Her 
soul  was  overwhelmed  with  grief.  Months  had 
passed  by.  Ofttimes  she  had  attempted  to  write 
the  farewell  letter,  but  just  as  often,  amid  blinding 
tears,  and  with  a  grief  stricken  heart,  did  she  fail 
to  express  to  him  (the  one  she  loved  far  better  than 
her  own  life)  the  grief  that  was  crushing  her  heart, 


Suffering  Millions.  81 

and  causing  the  sorrow  of  life  to  be  more  than  she 
was  able  to  bear,  and  making  the  awful  abyss  of 
hell  to  stare  her  in  the  face.  At  last  she  gave  up 
the  idea  of  writing.  She  thought  he  should  never 
know  the  sorrow  she  felt  (which  he  never  did)  and 
that  she  would  try  and  give  him  up.  It  was  not 
long  after  this  that  he  married  the  lady  of  wealth. 
When  May  heard  of  this  the  noble  nature  within 
her  rallied.  She  said  to  me,  "  he  now  is  the  hus- 
band of  another,  and  it  is  not  right  for  me  to  mourn 
for  a  married  man." 

"No,  indeed,"  said  I,  "let  him  go." 

She  therefore  took  his  picture,  the  last  thing  she 
had  to  remind  her  of  him;  took  a  last,  half  fright- 
ened look  at  it,  and  then  cast  it  in  the  fire  and 
burned  it  up.  Her  nature  was  too  noble  to  mourn 
for  a  married  man.  She  therefore  began  to  forget 
the  one  great  sorrow  of  her  life;  but  still  her  na- 
ture was  changed.  Such  sorrows  leave  their  im- 
press on  our  natures.  Her  heart  was  hardened. 
She  seemed  to  care  nothing  for  the  things  of  life. 
The  words  of  the  Gospel  fell  on  her  ear,  "As 
sounding  brass,  or  a  tinkling  cymbal."  But  all 
the  time  she  tried  to  let  no  one  know  of  her  sor- 
row. She  did  not  want  to  let  any  one  know  that 
she  doubted  the  doctrine  of  the  bible,  but  as  for 
herself  she  could  not  feel  the  peace  that  it  spoke 
of.  Life,  nature,  the  bible,  all  had  lost  their 
charms. 

She  now  came  to  me  for  comfort,  but  my  ad\dce 
6 


82  Suffering  Millions. 

seemed  to  do  but  little  good.  So  changed  was  she, 
yet  so  quietly  did  she  bear  her  grief,  that  her  most 
intimate  friends  knew  not  of  the  sorrow  she  felt, 
or  the  pain  she  was  passing  through.  But  as  time 
rolled  on,  she  knew  that  she  must  try  and  make 
the  best  of  life.  Others  sought  her  hand  in  mar- 
riage, but  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  ever 
again  think  of  placing  her  affections  on  any  one. 
The  sorrow  of  the  past  was  too  severe  to  think  of 
again  trusting  any  one  that  might  cause  her  sor- 
row. After  the  marriage  of  her  old  lover,  she 
heard  but  little  of  him.  The  distance  between 
them  was  a  number  of  miles,  and  she  tried  in 
every  way  to  forget  him.  She  felt  that  she  never 
again  wanted  to  see  or  hear  from  him.  One  great 
advantage  to  her  was  that  no  one  in  the  neighbor- 
hood where  she  lived  knew  of  her  former  engage 
ment.  Therefore  they  knew  nothing  about  the 
mortification  she  felt  at  being  treated  so  by  one 
who  should  have  treated  her  differently. 

Many  were  the  scenes  she  constantly  passed 
through,  but  the  worst  of  all  was  that  she  seemed 
to  have  no  feeling  in  regard  to  religion.  How 
dark  and  sad  life  is,  when  trouble  and  disappoint- 
ment overshadows  our  mind  and  soul,  and  when 
all  of  earth's  miseries  crush  us  to  the  extent  of 
our  being,  and  no  one  to  go  to  for  help.  To  try  to 
struggle  with  life's  tempestuous  tide,  leaning  only 
on  our  own  strength.  Had  she  leaned  upon  her 
Saviour  and  listened  to  his  gentle  voice,  she  would 


Suffering  Millions.  83 

have  received  strength.  But  this  she  did  not  do. 
She  tried  sometimes  to  forget  all  of  the  past,  but 
found  it  very  difficult  to  do.  Past  sorrows  and  dis- 
appointments are  not  as  easily  forgotten  as  one 
might  think,  and  for  her  it  was  almost  impossi- 
ble. Being  of  so  nervous  a  temperament  this 
sorrow  seemed  greater  than  she  was  able  to  bear, 
and  especially  trying  to  bear  it  as  she  did,  in  her 
own  strength. 


84  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  X. 


As  we  have  already  said,  Mrs.  Montroville  was 
a  healthy  woman,  who  took  the  household  cares 
upon  herself,  not  depending  upon  May  for  much 
assistance.  Now  comes  a  change,  and  one  that 
throws  much  care  and  responsibility  on  May.  Mrs. 
Montroville  is  taken  suddenly  very  ill  with  a 
malignant  fever.  Anxiety  now  fills  the  mind  of 
every  member  of  her  family,  and  it  is  feared  that 
she  may  not  recover.  Her  sons  stand  by  her  bed- 
side, and  try  to  soothe  her  pain.  Mr.  Montroville, 
seeing  that  death  is  drawing  near,  does  all  in  his 
power  to  have  the  dreadful  monster  stayed.  May's 
bleeding  heart  knows  not  what  to  do,  for  she  had 
leaned  so  heavily  upon  her  mother.  Now  as  she 
stands  by  her  bedside  and  holds  her  feeble  hands 
in  her  own,  she  fears  that  her  mother  will  soon  be 
gone. 

"  Well,"  said  I  to  May,  "  death  is  pronounced 
upon  all  of  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Adam.  We 
must  look  upon  it  only  as  a  visitation  to  be  ex- 
pected by  all  mankind,  the  high  as  well  as  the 
low." 

Mrs.  Montroville  had  made  a  great  pet  of  her 
little  granddaughter  Lulu,  as  Lulu's  mother  had 
alwa3Ts  cast  the  care  of  the  child  upon  her.  She 


Suffering  Millions.  85 

now  felt  great  anxiety  for  Lulu.  She  knew  that 
May  was  old  enough  to  take  care  of  herself,  but  in 
her  wild  delirium,  she  constantly  spoke  of  Lulu, 
often  exclaiming:  "But  she  is  little.  She  is 
little."  She  feared  that  when  she  was  gone  the 
little  darling  might  be  neglected.  Little  Lulu 
would  not  leave  her  grandmother's  house.  She 
remained  both  night  and  day,  that  she  might  be 
near  her  dear  grandma.  At  last  the  hour  was 
drawing  near.  Early  in  the  morning  of  a  winter's 
day,  Mrs.  Montroville  called  her  friends  to  her 
side.  She  said  she  could  not  stay  long,  and  asked 
that  Lulu  might  sit  by  her  on  the  bed.  She  looked 
upon  her  little,  helpless  form,  and  the  only  favor 
she  asked  of  Mr.  Montroville  was  that  he  would 
always  take  care  of  little  Lulu,  which  he  solemnly 
promised  to  do.  She  lingered  unconsciously  until 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  then  closed  her  eyes 
forever  to  the  things  of  earth,  to  bask  in  an  eter- 
nity of  sunshine,  in  a  world  that  is  free  from  care. 
May  now  was  surrounded  with  sorrow  on  every 
side,  but  she  had  some  warm  friends  and  also  some 
bitter  enemies  on  account  of  a  hasty  temper  which 
was  the  result  of  nervousness  and  entirely  beyond 
her  control.  Those  of  her  friends  who  were  true 
now  came  forward  and  showed  themselves  such. 
Among  the  number  was  a  young  man  who  had  be- 
come an  intimate  friend  of  May's,  who  did  all  he 
could  to  comfort  her,  and  while  friends  were  pay- 
ing their  last  tribute  of  respect  to  her  mother,  this 


86  Suffering  Millions. 

young  man,  whom  we  will  call  young  LaMarr, 
stood  by  May's  side  and  tried  to  help  her  bear  her 
grief.  Of  course  as  a  friend  in  time  of  need  she 
could  not  help  appreciating  his  kindness. 

After  the  funeral,  Oh !  how  sad  to  return  to  that 
lonely  home !  May,  who  had  never  known  much 
of  household  care,  now  had  to  take  the  place  of 
her  mother.  It  was  nearly  night  when  we  arrived 
home.  The  very  things  that  were  around  her 
mother,  May  and  I  had  to  put  away.  Everything 
was  so  dark  and  dismal.  Oh!  now  how  much  she 
needed  the  grace  of  God  to  help  her  in  her  lonely 
lot.  But  this  she  did  not  have.  Mr.  Montroville's 
health  was  fast  failing,  which  made  it  much  worse 
for  May,  as  he  was  not  much  company  for  her. 

As  I  could  not  stay  long  at  Mr.  Montroville's,  it 
would  have  been  almost  impossible  for  May  to 
have  kept  house  for  her  father  had  it  not  been  for 
little  Lulu.  William  and  his  wife  were  willing  to 
have  her  live  with  May,  who  just  idolized  the 
child.  They  were  constantly  together.  May  had 
no  company  with  whom  Lulu  was  not  a  welcome 
guest.  May  used  what  means  she  had  to  dress 
Lulu  and  as  she  was  very  pretty,  she  felt  proud  of 
her  little  curly-headed  niece.  Lulu  was  very 
active  and  had  a  great  desire  to  help  with  the 
work.  She  seemed  to  want  a  part  to  do,  and 
usually  in  the  morning,  as  the  work  was  being 
done,  would  take  a  small  basin  and  cloth  and  go 
out  into  the  yard  and  wash  the  pump,  as  if  it  was 


Suffering  Millions.  87 

quite  necessary  that  the  pump  should  be  washed 
every  morning  just  the  same  as  the  dishes.  May 
thought  everything  Lulu  did  was  very  cute.  Al- 
though May  was  very  quick  tempered,  yet  with 
Lulu  she  was  always  kind.  Mr.  Montroville,  too, 
was  very  fond  of  Lulu. 

Now  that  his  father's  health  seemed  gradually 
failing  him,  William  and  his  wife  usually  spent 
their  evenings  with  him.  William  loved  to  talk 
of  his  days  while  in  the  army,  and  never  seemed 
to  lose  sight  of  the  changing  scenes  of  war.  He  al- 
ways referred  to  it  with  pride.  No  coward's  blood 
ran  in  his  veins.  He  was  one  of  those  noble  boys 
who  was  willing  to  brave  the  battle  field,  and  if 
necessary  to  have  lain  down  his  life  for  those  he 
loved.  William  was  a.  great  comfort  to  May's 
lonely  lot.  He  was  more  cheerful  than  any  of  the 
rest  of  the  family.  May  sadly  missed  her  mother. 
It  is  very  lonely  for  a  girl  to  keep  house  without 
her  mother.  I  noticed  although  hasty  and  im- 
pulsive as  May  was,  and  imprudent  too,  yet  through 
a  great  many  sorrows  and  afflictions,  the  dear 
Savior  watched  over  her,  and  although  she  felt  not 
his  love  and  tender  care,  yet  in  an  unseen  way  he 
was  gently  leading  her.  His  sympathy  was  to- 
ward her  for  the  blind  way  she  sought  or  tried  to 
seek  comfort  from  the  holy  bible,  and  gained 
none.  She  thought  then  she  had  done  all  in 
her  power  to  gain  the  assistance  of  divine  help, 
if  there  was  such  a  thing  to  be  gained.  And 


88  Suffering  Millions. 

because  she  received  not  forgiveness  for  her 
sins,  her  way  was  so  dark  that  finally  she  almost 
gave  up  in  despair,  and  although  she  loved 
the  truth,  and  everything  that  goes  to  make  a 
noble  life,  yet  with  regard  to  religion  she  was  en- 
entirely  in  the  dark.  But  as  God's  ways  are  not 
our  ways,  yet  in  an  unknown  way  to  her,  he  was 
leading  her,  and  although  she  did  not  then  know  or 
feel  his  mercy,  in  his  own  way  he  was  bringing 
her  to  understand  that  the  things  of  life  were 
nothing  to  compare  with  his  mercy  and  truth.  Of 
course  the  things  he  has  given  us  to  enjoy  are  good 
in  their  places,  but  as  her's  was  a  selfish  nature 
she  thought  too  much  of  the  things  of  this  life. 
She  had  such  a  love  for  those  things  that  are  of  the 
world,  that  the  dear  Savior  had  to  lead  her  through 
many  places  in  bringing  her  to  the  true  light  of 
the  Gospel,  that  made  her  heart  sick  and  sore,  and 
over  ways  that  left  her  feet  pierced  and  bleeding. 
Oh !  the  darkness  of  earth  that  hung  around  her 
soul !  She  did  not  feel  the  love  and  comfort  that 
the  blessed  Savior  of  the  world  has  promised  to 
those  that  ask  in  faith  believing.  James:  1  chap., 
6  verse. 

I  will  mention  here  that  it  is  best  to  associate 
with  Christian  people,  although  we  do  not  feel 
their  love,  or  that  our  hearts  will  gradually  unite  to 
theirs.  No  doubt  if  this  girl  had  always  been  with 
wicked  and  sinful  pecple  she  might  have  always 
remained  in  the  dark,  and  her  soul  would  have 


Suffering  Millions.  89 

been  eternally  lost.  Oh,  how  much  better  it  is  in 
the  morning  of  life  to  give  the  heart  to  God ;  and 
commit  all  of  our  ways  to  Him.  Then  we  will 
omit  many  of  the  sins  and  lusts  of  youth  that  will 
be  thrown  around  our  pathway ;  for  just  as  we  sow, 
we  shall  reap.  How  grand  and  sublime  it  is  for 
children  to  "  Remember  their  Creator  in  the  days 
of  their  youth,"  before  the  cares  and  sorrows, of 
life  come  upon  them,  for  then  they  will  have  a 
strong  hand  to  lean  upon  ;  and  an  eye  that  never 
sleeps  to  watch  over  their  ways  and  to  direct  their 
path  ;  for  as  sure  as  they  do  they  have  the  promise 
"  commit  thy  ways  to  the  Lord  and  he  will  direct 
thy  path."  What  a  grand  promise,  and  as  sure  as 
God  is  true  this  will  be  so.  The  whole  mistake  in 
regard  to  the  Gospel  is ;  in  not  believing,  and  in 
not  submitting  our  souls  into  the  hands  of  God. 
Of  course  this  is  easy  enough  to  those  who  do  be- 
lieve, but  to  those  who  are  in  the  dark  it  is  not  so 
easy,  for  "the  devil  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion 
seeking  whom  he  may  devour,"  and  as  he  is  very 
cunning  he  weaves  his  web  around  the  heart  of  the 
unbeliever,  and  holds  him  in  his  grasp.  It  is  hard 
for  some  people  to  understand  these  mysteries, 
and  they  remain  in  the  dark  until  some  extraordi- 
nary thing  brings  them  into  the  glorious  light  of 
the  Gospel.  All  are  not  constituted  alike.  What 
will  do  for  one  does  not  always  do  for  another. 
"  God's  ways  are  not  our  ways,"  but  all  his  paths 
are  peace.  Bles?  his  holy  name. 


90  Suffering  Millions. 

"But  May,"  said  I,  "you  must  ask  in  faith, 
nothing  wavering,  for  he  that  wavereth  is  like  the 
waves  of  (he  sea,  driven  with  the  winds  and  tossed. 
You  are  as  one  drifting  on  the  ocean  of  time, 
drifting  you  know  not  where." 

Although  young  yet  May  had  a  great  deal  of  ex- 
perience in  the  things  of  the  world.  The  hand  of 
death  had  made  its  inroad  into  her  family.  But 
as  she  knew  more  of  suffering  now  than  she  did 
earlier  in  life,  she  tried  to  bear  it  as  bravely  as  she 
could.  Several  friends  within  a  short  time  had 
died  who  had  lived  Christian  lives.  This  of  course 
left  the  greatest  impression  on  her  mind  of  any- 
thing in  regard  to  religion,  as  it  always  does. 
The  holy,  upright  life  of  the  Christian  is  the  great- 
est thing  in  the  world  to  bring  the  unbelieving 
heart  to  God.  At  the  time  of  the  death  of  her 
mother  there  came  to  her  a  different  feeling. 

I  noticed  a  change,  "  What  is  it?"  said  I  to  May. 

"  Well,"  said  May,  "  it  seems  as  if  something 
was  helping  me  to  bear  the  sorrow." 

At  one  time  she  said  there  came  to  her  an  un- 
earthly feeling  as  if  an  angel  or  a  heavenly  light 
shown  around  her,  and  although  it  affected  her, 
and  she  often  wondered  what  it  could  be,  yet  her 
heart  and  mind  was  so  in  the  dark  that  she  almost 
disbelieved  the  power  of  God,  and  that  death  would 
be  the  end  of  all  earthly  things.  No  doubt  oft- 
times  amid  the  sorrows  she  encountered,  the 
blessed  Savior  gladly  would  have  shared  them 


Suffering  Millions.  91 

with  her,  if  she  had  only  believed  on  his  holy  name. 
But  that  she  thought  was  impossible  for  her  to  do. 
Ofttimes  she  thought  if  there  was  such  a  thing  as 
prayer  that  she  would  pray,  but  her  prayers  were 
as  her  belief,  without  faith. 

"  If  we  receive,"  said  I,  "  we  must  ask  in  faith, 
believing,  then  we  shall  receive.  But  we  must 
ask  not  for  things  to  consume  upon  our  lusts  for 
then,"  said  1,  "  our  desires  may  be  of  a  selfish 
nature  and  the  blessed  Savior  may  not  grant  our 
petitions,  for  as  an  earthly  parent  pittieth  his 
children,  so  also  doth  our  heavenly  father  pity 
them  that  love  an  serve  him.  And  a  great  many 
times  we  may  ask  for  things  that  would  not  be 
well  for  us  to  have.  This  the  One  that  knoweth  all 
things,  knows,  therefore  He  does  not  always  grant 
everything  we  ask  for,  because  He  knows  it  might 
cause  us  trouble,  and  in  many  ways  it  would  not. 
be  well  for  us,  and  because  He  loves  us  He  with- 
holds them.  But  we  have  this  promise,  that  no 
good  thing  will  He  withhold  (that  is,  nothing  that 
would  be  good  for  us  to  have).  But  we  are  com- 
manded to  pray,  we  must  pray.  But  let  us  humbly 
ask  that  we  may  pray  aright,  for  oft  times  we  get 
into  the  dark  by  asking  for  things  that  would  not 
be  well  for  us  to  have,  therefore  we  do  not  always 
receive." 


92  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XL 


"I  called  to  day  to  see  William  Montroville," 
said  Mr.  Bradberry,  "  he  is  very  sick." 

Mrs.  Bradberry  replied, "  I  am  very  sorry  indeed. 
What  do  you  think  is  the  matter  with  him  ?" 

"  Well,  he  caught  cold  and  now  has  lung  fever." 

"  I  suppose  they  have  a  doctor  by  this  time  ?" 

"  Yes,  they  employed  Dr.  D ." 

"  Well,  what  did  the  doctor  say  ?" 

"  He  said  it  would  be  a  very  doubtful  case.  You 
see  William  has  no  care  whatever.  His  wife  acts 
more  as  if  he  were  a  brute  than  a  human  being. 
Poor  boy,  his  has  been  a  hard  lot." 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  has.  I  don't  suppose  he  ever 
had  one  decent  meal  of  victuals  in  his  own  house, 
unless  someone  besides  his  wife  got  it  for  him. 
No  wonder  the  poor  boy  is  sick,  such  indigestible 
food  is  enough  to  make  any  one  sick." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Bradberry.  "  The  doctor  said 
to  me,  he  never  before  saw  such  a  woman  in  his 
whole  life.  Why,  he  said  she  fairly  abuses 
William." 

u  I  guess  we  had  better  go  over  and  see  him  as 
soon  as  possible." 

"  Yes,  indeed  we  must,"  said  Mrs.  Bradberry. 

The  same  afternoon  Mrs.  Bradberry  and  I  went 


Suffering  Millions.  93 

to  see  how  William  was  getting  along.  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  how  very  sick  he  was.  He  was  lying 
on  his  back,  his  face  was  tinged  with  a  yellowish 
hue,  his  eyes  were  rolled  away  back  in  his  head. 
In  an  instant  his  wife  came  into  the  room  where 
he  was. 

'•'Your  husband  is  very  sick,  is  he  not?"  said 
Mrs.  Bradberry. 

"  Oh  !"  said  his  wife,  "  he  is  always  a  great  hand 
to  make  a  fuss  when  anything  is  the  matter  with 
him." 

'"  Surely  he  is  very  sick  and  something  should 
be  done  at  once,"  said  Mrs.  Bradberry. 

"'Well,  if  anybody  wants  anything  done  they 
will  have  to  do  it  themselves.  I  have  done  all  I 
intend  to  do.  I  don't  care  if  he  would  die  ;  then 
perhaps  I  could  have  a  little  comfort." 

At  this  unfeeling  remark,  Mrs.  Bradberry,  in 
perfect  astonishment  said,  "  Why,  you  must  not 
talk  so." 

Not  long  after  we  had  been  in  the  house  the 
doctor  arrived.  He  stepped  to  the  bed,  looked  at 
William,  felt  of  his  pulse,  and  then  pushed  back 
his  sleeves,  as  if  bound  to  do  all  he  could.  You 
could  plainly  see  a  troubled  look  on  his  face. 

"  I  will  give  ten  dollars,  out  of  my  own  pocket, 

to  have  Dr.  W ,  of  T ,  brought  here  for 

counsel,  as  quick  as  possible.  This  young  man 
must  live,  and  I  have  done  everything  in  my 
power." 


94  Suffering  Millions. 

The  doctor  he  referred  to  was  one  of  the  oldest 
as  well  as  one  of  the  best  in  the  whole  country, 
but  lived  at  a  town  some  twelve  or  fifteen  miles 
away. 

Then  turning  to  Mrs.  Bradberry  he  said,  "  Mon- 
troville  is  very,  very  sick,  but  he  must  live."  He 
then  turned  and  looked  at  the  baby  and  pointing 
at  it  said,  "  What  would  become  of  that  little  one  ? 
Yes,  he  must  live.  This  is  a  difficult  case,  every- 
thing is  so  uncomfortable,  but  nevertheless  for  the 
sake  of  those  children  I  am  bound  to  do  all  in  my 
power.  He  must  live,  yes  he  must  live."  After 
a  moment's  thought  he  said,  "As  I  have  a  very 
fast  horse,  I  will  go  myself."  Then  turning  to  me 
he  said,  "  You  stay  here  until  I  return.  Be  sure 
and  keep  him  well  covered  up  as  he  is  liable  to 
take  cold.  I  will  return  just  as  quick  as  possible." 

I  watched  the  doctor  as  he  drove  away.  He 
jumped  into  his  cutter,  wrapped  his  robe  around 
him,  and  then  dashed  away  at  great  speed. 

"Why,"  said  William's  wife,  "what  a  fuss  that 
doctor  always  makes.  I  felt  like  ordering  him  out 
of  the  house.  I  suppose  he  thinks  me  not  capable 
of  tending  to  my  own  house ;  but  I  shall  show 
him  about  it.  He  better  not  come  back  here  again 
showing  his  authority,  or  he  will  get  his  walking 
papers.  Lulu,  you  good-for-nothing  thing,  sit 
down  or  I  will  give  you  a  slap,"  said  she. 

Not  long  after  the  doctor  went  away  William 


Suffering  Millions.  95 

awoke  and  began  to  talk.  "  Do  you  feel  better  ?  " 
said  I. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  do  not."  He  then 
turned  around  and  as  May  was  standing  by  her 
brother's  bedside  he  said  to  her,  "  May,  come  here." 

"  What  will  you  have  ?"  said  she. 

"  Well  May,"  said  he,  taking  her  hand  in  his, "  I 
am  going  to  die." 

"  Oh !  my  dear  brother,"  said  May,  as  she  kneeled 
by  his  side,  "do  not  say  that.  We  cannot  give 
you  up." 

"  But,  May,  poor  May,  it  is  so.  I  cannot  long 
remain  here.  I  have  nothing  to  live  for  but  my 
children.  You  know  how  very  unpleasantly  I  am 
situated.  May,  I  made  a  sad  mistake  when  I  was 
only  a  young  boy.  I  married  when  I  was  only,  as 
you  might  say,  a  child.  This  marriage  has  blighted 
my  life.  But  by  it  there  have  come  to  me 
children.  Poor,  dear,  darling  little  children. 
Oh!  May,  I  now  have  to  leave  them  in  a  cold 
and  sinful  world.  I  have  not  much  to  leave 
them  ;  and  May,  you  know  Jane  is  not  capable  of 
taking  care  of  them.  Oh  !  May,  dear  May,  when 
I  am  gone,  will  you  be  kind  to  them?  I  know  it 
will  be  hard  for  you,  but  May  it  is  hard  for  a  poor 
little  orphan  child  to  live  among  strangers.  There 
is  my  poor  little  curly  headed  Lulu,  sweet  little 
girl  that  she  is,  please  look  after  her.  Dear  little 
Charley  I  will  give  to  Ward.  I  know  he  has 
children  of  his  own,  but  I  know  he  will  do  all  he 


96  Suffering  Millions. 

can  for  him.  He  has  a  good  wife.  But  my  baby 
Willie,  poor  little  baby  boy.  I  expect,  Jane  will 
have  to  keep  him."  Here  his  feelings  overcame 
him  and  he  broke  down  arid  wept.  "Oh!  may 
God  in  his  great  mercy  take  care  of  the  little  fel- 
low. Oh,  I  fear,  I  fear  for  him.  Oh!  May,  dear 
May,  if  I  could  write  with  my  heart's  blood,  I 
would  warn  the  young  to  be  careful  about  that 
great  and  most  important  step  of  choosing  a  life 
companion.  I'.ut.  then,  it  in  often  hard  to  tell. 
You  know  that  Jane  seemed  all  right  at  first.  I'ut 
May,  when  I  am  gone  be  kind  to  my  children,  rny 
dear  little  orphan  babes." 

"  Yes  brother,  dear  brother,  I  will  do  all  1  can 
for  them,"  said  May,  as  she  knelt  by  his  bed,  her 
face  Hooded  with  tears. 

I  then  went  to  his  wife  and  asked  her  if  she 
believed  him  dying,  but  little  did  she  seem  to  care. 
She  only  cared  for  herself.  William,  tortured  with 
pain,  sometimes  rolled  in  wild  delirium  on  his 
bed.  May  stood  by  him  and  smoothed  his  auburn 
hair.  It  happened  that  there  was  an  entertain- 
ment at  the  school  house  near  by.  Almost  the 
entire  neighborhood  were  there,  both  young  and 
old.  Of  course  May  would  have  been  glad  I- 
as  she  enjoyed  such  things  very  much,  yet,  |bfl 
knew  she  was  more  needed  by  her  brother.  Wil- 
liam becoming  somewhat  better,  looked  into  her 
•  Mid  said,  "  You  will  not  h-ave  me  all  alone."1 
This  touched  May's  heart.  "No,"  she  said,  "  I 


Suffering  Millions.  97 

would  not  leave  my  darling  brother  all  alone  for 
all  of  the  entertainments  in  the  world."  She 
would  rather  stand  by  the  bedside  of  her  brother 
and  try  to  ease  his  pain. 

Mrs.  Hradberry  had  returned  home  and  the 
doctor  had  not  yet  arrived.  Myself,  the  wit'e,  and 
sister,  were  now  alone.  The  shades  of  night  had 
gathered  and  a  loneliness  hovered  around.  Wil- 
liam at  last  expressed  a  desire  to  sit  up  and  be 
dressed.  May  told  him  it  would  not  do  for  him  to 
get  up.  as  he  might  take  cold.  After  this  he  lay 
quietly  in  a  very  straight  position,  talking  some. 
The  wit'e  retired  in  another  room  for  the  night.  A 
neighbor  eame  in  to  stay  with  May,  and  help  take 
care  of  William.  After  a  little  while  he  seemed 
to  rest  well.  May  watched  the  clock,  and  just  at 
eight  she  prepared  his  medicine.  As  she  stepped 
to  the  bedside  she  beheld  the  pallor  of  death 
spreading  its  mantle  over  her  brother's  face.  Her 
friend  stepped  to  the  bedside  and  they  together 
beheld  him  gently  breathe  his  last.  He  fell  asleep 
in  death  as  softly  as  a  little  babe  goes  to  sleep 
upon  its  mother's  breast.  They  stood  for  a 
moment  horror  struck.  May  felt  she  could  not 
stand  by  the  death  bed  any  longer,  and  said  to  her 
friend.  "  Stay  here  while  1  go  for  assistance."  She 
sprang  to  the  door  and  out  into  the  darkness.  She 
was  very  much  excited,  her  only  thought  being  to 
get  her  brother  Ward  there,  and  as  God  has  prom- 
ised to  always  be  with  those  in  trouble  so  in  this 
B 


98  Suffering  Millions. 

Case  he  afforded  assistance  to  May.  She  had  gone 
but  a  short  distance  when  she  overtook  a  cutter 
with  a  young  lady  and  gentleman  out  sleigh  riding. 
They  took  her  in  the  cutter.  The  young  man 
drove  as  fast  as  he  could  to  the  school  house. 
May  rushed  into  the  school  house  and  up  to  her 
brother  Ward  and  sail, "  Come,  William  is  dying." 
Ward  bounded  like  a  wild  deer  to  the  door,  and 
soon  stood  by  the  bedside  of  his  dear  brother. 
May's  friends  tried  to  quiet  her,  and  told  her  that 
she  was  only  excited,  that  William  was  better. 
But  she  knew  that  she  was  not  mistaken,  but  that 
he  was  dead,  as  they  were  all  soon  made  to  realize. 
This  was  a  sad  hour.  All  was  excitement.  A 
young  man  folded  in  the  arras  of  death  unexpect- 
edly. It  threvv  a  sadness  over  all. 

Mr.  Montroville,  who  was  at  home,  knew  nothing 
of  the  death  of  his  son.  lie  was  shortly  afterward 
summoned  to  the  bedside,  and  he  came  in  great 
haste,  thinking  perhaps  his  son  might  want  to  see 
him.  But  as  he  came  in  and  saw  that  death 
had  done  its  work,  and  as  he  looked  upon  the 
pale  face  of  his  son,  he  wrung  his  hands  with 
grief.  His  heart  was  crushed.  His  oldest  son,  his 
darling  boy,  the  one  whose  assistance  he  most 
needed,  gone,  forever  gone. 

"  Dear,  oh  dear !"  said  Mrs.  Bradberry,  "  what 
will  become  of  those  poor  little  children  ?" 

"  Sure  enough,"  said  her  husband,  "  poor  little 
ones."  Mr.  Bradberry  sat  with  his  hands  upon  his 


Suffering  Millions,  99 

head  for  some  time,  and  then  said,  "  If  I  were  abte 
I  would  take  all  of  those  little  children.  Poor 
little  Lulu  is  such  a  frail  child.  What  will  become 
of  them  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  If  their  mother 
were  only  capable  of  taking  care  of  them." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Bradberry,  "you  know  she  is 
not,  therefore  it  is  a  very  difficult  case.  Yes, 
indeed,  for  anybody  that  takes  those  children  will 
always  have  trouble  with  that  woman,  of  course 
they  will.  She  acts  as  if  she  naturally  despised 
everybody  and  everything.  But  nevertheless 
those  dear  little  children  should  not  suffer  on 
account  of  their  mother.  I  must  confess  I  am 
puzzled  to  know  what  will  become  of  them,  they 
are  all  so  very  young.  Can  we  do  anything  ?" 

We  have  now  come  to  the  place  in  our  story 
where  we  are  compelled  to  describe  the  wife  of 
William.  Although  it  is  a  painful  task  for  me  to 
do,  causing  my  brain  to  reel  and  my  blood  to  run 
cold,  yet  truth  is  truth,  showing  no  injustice  to  any 
one.  Glad  indeed,  would  1  be  if  I  could  describe 
^her  in  any  other  way  than  the  way  I  will  have  to. 
She  was  one  of  those  silly,  trifling  women,  who  had 
no  love  for  her  husband  nor  her  home,  although 
she  had  influenced  William  to  marry  her  when  he 
was  only  a  little  past  seventeen,  she  being  much 
older  than  he.  At  first  he  seemed  very  much 
attached  to  her,  but  as  he  learned  the  ways  of  the 
world  and  saw  how  slovenly  and  good-for-nothing 
she  was,  and  how  she  tried  in  every  way  to  make 


100  Suffering  Millions. 

him  unhappy,  his  love  for  her  apparently  wore 
away.  She  belonged  to  one  of  earth's  noble  and 
good  families,  having  one  of  the  best  and  purest 
hearted  brothers  I  ever  knew,  who  tried  to  do 
everything  in  his  power  to  make  her  a  better 
woman,  and  cause  her  to  care  more  for  her  children 
and  her  home.  Yet  for  all  he  could  do  she  was 
the  same  trifling,  careless  woman.  May  God  in 
his  great  mercy  protect  the  children  of  such  a 
mother.  I  do  not  think  ever  in  the  records  of 
time  was  there  a  more  helpless  little  orphan  fam- 
ily than  this  one.  This  woman  not  only  neglected 
her  children,  but  seemed  to  despise  those  who 
1ried  to  take  care  of  the  little  darling  ones.  I 
have  often  been  made  to  weep,  when  I  thought  of 
William,  a  bright  and  noble  young  man,  who  was 
brought  to  sorrow  and  no  doubt  the  grave,  by  a 
trifling  woman.  While  they  kept  house  few  were 
the  comforts  he  enjoyed.  The  house  was  always 
nasty  and  dirty,  with  nothing  pleasant,  although 
he  was  very  neat. 


Suffering  Millions.  101 


CHAPTER  XII, 


The  friends  of  William  soon  gathered  at  his 
house,  and  to  the  astonishment  of  all  they  found 
that  May's  message  was  true,  and  that  he  was 
dead.  Friends  rendered  all  the  sympathy  and  as- 
sistance that  they  could  to  this  bleeding-hearted 
family.  Yet  this  sorrow,  time  could  never  change, 
or  at  least  could  not  restore  the  dear  one  back  to 
life  again.  Mr.  Montroville  was  crushed  and  over- 
whelmed with  grief  at  the  loss  of  his  son,  and  as 
his  health  was  so  poor  he  could  scarcely  stand  the 
sorrow  and  excitement,  it  was  thought  best  that 
Ward  should  take  his  father  back  to  his  house  to 
stay  with  him,  and  see  if  he  could  not  be  more 
reconciled  and  get  some  rest.  But  the  sorrow  was 
too  great.  No  doubt  he  thought  of  William's  help- 
less little  orphan  children.  He  knew  his  own 
health  was  gone,  and  that  William's  wife  was 
worse  than  no  woman  at  all.  Well  indeed  would 
it  have  been  for  this  family  and  for  those  little 
children  had  they  been  motherless  also,  for  their 
mother  was  entirely  incapable  of  taking  care  of 
them,  both  on  account  of  her  careless  and  willful 
nature,  and  because  she  possessed  no  faculty  for 
taking  care  of  children.  Mr.  Montroville  was 
agonized  with  pain  and  sorrow  all  night.  He 


102  Suffering  Millions. 

could  not  rest.  The  grief  he  bore  was  too  great  to 
afford  the  peaceful  sleep  that  comes  to  the  tired 
body.  When  the  mind  is  over  burdened,  as  the 
troubled  sea,  it  cannot  rest.  At  dawn  of  day  he 
arose,  and  as  the  sun  mounted  the  heavens,  shed- 
ding light  and  beauty  all  around,  he  stood  by  his 
chamber  window  that  looked  over  the  fields  to 
William's  residence,  where  his  son's  lifeless  body 
lay. 

He  said  to  Ward, "  It  is  a  beautiful  morning,  but 
it  affords  no  happiness  to  me." 

Although  a  Christian,  yet  there  are  times  in  a 
Christian's  life  when  the  barge  is  so  tempest  tossed 
that  this  earth  can  not  give  peace;  that  heaven 
alone  can  give  the  rest  our  weary  souls  thirst  for. 

Ward  had  to  attend  to  making  the  arrangements 
for  the  funeral.  May,  although  all  worn  out,  yet 
remained  at  the  home  of  her  brother  to  help  care 
for  the  children  and  get  things  ready  for  the  last 
sad  rites  over  one  she  had  loved  so  well  in  life. 
At  last  the  hour  arrived,  and  the  lifeless  body  was 
borne  from  the  sad  home,  amid  the  blinding  tears 
of  a  grief  stricken  family.  There  was  a  large  con- 
gregation of  sympathizing  friends,  who  filled  the 
school  house  where  the  funeral  services  were  held. 
As  little  Charlie  wept  and  cried  for  his  father 
there  was  hardly  a  person  who  did  not  shed 
tears. 

Mr.  Montroville,  as  he  was  taking  the  last  look  at 
his  son,  in  the  language  of  King  David  exclaimed, 


Suffering  Millions.  103 

"  Oh !  my  son,  would  to  God  I  had  died  for  thee 
my  son,  Oh  !  my  son  !" 

After  the  body  had  been  laid  to  rest  in  the  quiet 
grave,  and  they  had  returned  home,  a  good 
Christian  minister  accompanied  Mr.  Montroville 
home,  <o  try  and  afford  some  sympathy.  But  the 
stroke  had  been  too  great.  His  feeble  frame  gave 
away  and  "the  brittle  thread  of  life  was  almost 
severed."  He  sank  into  a  decline,  would  have  no 
doctor,  would  take  no  medicine,  and  once  or  twice 
while  great  drops  of  sweat  (although  his  body  was 
icy  cold)  trickled  down  his  cheeks,  he  said  to  May 
and  a  young  friend  of  hers  who  stood  by  his  bed- 
side, u  you  know  nothing  of  the  pain  I  am  now  ex- 
periencing.'" Yet  he  bore  it  so  peacefully,  al- 
though nervous  and  impatient;  but  now  as  the 
sands  of  life  had  nearly  ceased  to  run,  so  mild  and 
patient  did  he  wait,  and  as  the  minister  asked  him 
his  hopes  of  heaven,  he  trustingly  replied :  "  with 
the  rest  of  mankind  I  must  stand  my  chance."  A 
short  time  after  this,  about  the  same  hour  of  the 
night,  just  one  week  from  the  da}'-  that  William 
died,  he  spoke  to  Ward  (Ward  and  May  were  now 
alone  with  their  father  as  the  minister  had  just 
gone  away)  and  said  that  he  would  like  to  get  up, 
as  he  was  tired  of  lying  on  the  bed.  Ward  assisted 
him  to  arise,  and  as  he  was  supporting  his  father 
in  his  arms,  his  life  gave  away.  Ward  noticed  the 
change  and  called  May  to  his  side.  They  together 
laid  the  trembling  form  of  their  father  on  the 


104  Suffering  Millions. 

bed.  He  tried  to  look  once  more  into  their  face, 
and  then  the  lamp  of  life  ceased  to  burn.  Friends 
were  soon  summoned  to  their  assistance.  Kind  in- 
deed were  those  warm-hearted  people  who  ren- 
dered love  and  sympathy  now  to  Ward  and  May 
No  doubt  their  hearts  would  have  been  crushed 
had  it  not  been  for  the  kind  and  loving  acts  of 
friends  who  tried  to  afford  them  all  the  comfort 
they  could.  Noble  indeed  is  the  person  who  will 
try  in  time  of  sorrow  to  help  a  friend  bear  a  grief, 
and  to  smooth  the  rugged  paths  of  life.  Ofttimes 
when  the  heart  is  sore  and  bleeding,  just  one  little 
word  or  sometimes  a  tender  look  help  make  the 
tide  of  life  flow  much  more  peacefully.  Just  one 
week  from  the  very  hour,  in  the  little  old  fashioned 
school  house  the  funeral  dirge  again  was  sung;  but 
now  the  family  had  dwindled  down  until  the 
mourners  were  few.  Ward  and  May  now  occupied 
the  same  seat  that  their  father  did  just  one  week 
before,  but  now  by  him  it  would  be  forever  vacant. 
Ward  took  the  death  of  his  father  very  hard. 
He  now  felt  himself  almost  alone.  He  well  knew 
how  much  depended  upon  him.  He  had  been  so 
much  attached  to  his  father  and  brother,  of  both  of 
whom  he  had  been  bereft  in  one  short  week. 
May  seemed  more  resigned  yet  she  felt  the  help- 
lessness of  William's  little  children.  After  the 
burial  they  returned  to  their  lonely  home,  for  the 
death  of  Mr.  Montroville  left  May  entirely  alone 
in  her  father's  house.  Ward  thought  best  that  she 


Suffering  Millions.  105 

should  stay  at  his  house  until  other  arrangements 
could  be  made.  As  I  have  said  before,  little 
Charlie  also  lived  with  Ward.  Dear  little  Lulu 
now  lived  with  her  mother  in  that  sad  and  dismal 
home. 

In  a  little  while  after  this  Ward  took  possession 
of  his  father's  farm  and  moved  in  his  house.  As 
he  was  the  only  one  capable  of  attending  to  the 
farm  and  settling  the  estate,  this  duty  he  per- 
formed in  a  good  and  honorable  manner.  May 
still  remained  with  him.  Things  were  now  so 
changed,  in  so  short  a  time,  but  they  all  did  as  well 
as  they  could  to  make  the  best  out  of  life.  Had  it 
not  been  for  William's  family  they  could  have  got 
along  very  well,  but  on  account  of  the  inability  of 
his  widow  to  take  care  of  her  children,  as  well  as 
herself,  it  made  things  very  unpleasant.  Ward 
had  all  of  the  responsibility  resting  upon  him  that 
any  one  person  ought  to  have,  yet  he  was  willing 
to  do  all  he  could  for  his  brother's  family.  May's 
love  for  Lulu  was  intense,  but  as  she  was  now  sit- 
uated it  was  impossible  for  her  to  do  as  much  for 
the  child  as  she  would  have  been  glad  to  have 
done.  It  was  not  long  after  the  death  of  her  father, 
that  Lulu  was  taken  very  sick.  Again  May  was 
called  to  stand  by  a  bed  of  suffering.  Her  heart  was 
very  much  pained  for  the  little  one.  I  will  here  de- 
scribe one  very  severe  trial  she  had  to  encounter. 
There  was  a  woman  who  lived  near,  a  woman  who 
had  been  a  grass  widow  of  Irish  descent,  who 


106  Suffering  Millions. 

came  into  the  neighborhood  an  entire  stranger,  and 
by  some  method  succeeded  in  influencing  a  well- 
to-do  farmer  to  marry  her.  This  of  course  ele- 
vated her  very  much.  But  as  her  heart  was  as 
hard  as  stone,  and  as  the  work  of  the  evil  one  is 
always  shrewd  and  cunning,  so  this  wicked  woman, 
whom  we  will  call  Rebecca,  which  was  her  true 
name,  hastened  to  this  house.  She  was  accom- 
panied by  another  woman  and  also  by  her  brother. 
They  found  May,  Lulu,  and  her  mother  alone. 
Lulu  was  very  sick.  She  marched  in  with  the  dig- 
nity of  a  queen,  but  her  heart  was  as  wicked  as  the 
evil  one  could  have  wanted  it  to  have  been.  She 
took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and  well  knew 
that  Lulu's  mother  was  not  capable  of  taking  care 
of  her.  She  also  knew  that  she  could  sow  discord 
and  make  trouble  between  May  and  the  mother. 
So  she  began  in  the  most  abusive  language  she 
could  command,  saying  that  Lulu  was  not  being 
well  taken  care  of.  She  seemed  to  direct  all  of  her 
abuse  upon  May  and  the  other  members  of  May's 
family  who  were  not  present.  She  chided  and  in- 
sulted in  every  way  that  her  vile  tongue  was  cap- 
able of.  She  claimed  to  have  done  much  for  them, 
but  in  fact  had  done  very  little,  which  no  doubt  in 
her  eyes  looked  very  large.  May  stood  her  abuse 
as  long  as  it  was  possible  for  one  of  her  hasty  tem- 
per. At  last  her  fiery  southern  blood  arose.  She 
told  the  woman  she  had  better  mind  her  own  busi- 
ness, hinting  that  she  perhaps  did  not  know  what 


Suffering  Millions.  107 

people  thought  of  her.  At  this  the  woman's 
brother  began  on  May.  He,  too,  possessed  much 
of  the  overbearing  disposition  of  his  sister.  Now 
May  became  so  enraged  that  she  said  many  things 
she  ought  not  to  have  said,  forgetting  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  moment  all  about  little  darling  Lulu. 
For  a  while  pandemonium  seemed  to  reign.  The 
woman's  vile  tongue  seemed  fired  with  a  viper's 
sting.  All  at  once  May  happened  to  look  at  little 
Lulu,  whose  little  innocent  eyes  were  bent  on  her. 
This  was  enough  for  May,  who  read  the  look  of 
love  on  Lulu's  lonely  face.  Lulu  looked  to  May 
for  her  care.  Although  a  little  child,  yet  she  had 
long  ago  learned  where  her  care  came  from.  May 
was  overcome  at  once.  She  well  knew  there  was 
need  of  good  and  speedy  care  for  Lulu.  After  the 
woman  left  May  was  all  excitement.  Death  had 
made  such  a  sad  inroad  into  her  family  that  she 
felt  they  could  not  spare  dear,  precious  little  Lulu. 
Oh !  if  Lulu's  mother  could  only  have  been  cap- 
able of  taking  care  of  her,  but  as  this  was  impos- 
sible it  was  a  very  trying  position  for  May.  She 
was  young  and  had  never  taken  care  of  a  sick 
child,  therefore  she  felt  her  inability  to  take  care 
of  her  now  that  she  was  so  very  sick,  and  yet  to 
act,  seeing  Lulu's  mother  was  present  was  very 
hard.  It  was  almost  dark.  May  knew  something 
must  be  done,  she  therefore  went  to  see  if  she 
could  hire  a  good  old  Quaker  lady  to  come  and 
take  care  of  Lulu,  a  lady  who  understood  medicine 


108  Suffering  Millions. 

and  was  a  good  nurse.  As  it  happened  I  was  at 
the  lady's  house  when  May  came.  I  saw  she  was 
very  much  excited  as  well  as  very  much  grieved 
about  Lulu.  She  at  once  made  her  business  known. 
She  seemed  to  have  no  time  to  lose. 

"  I  came,"  said  she,  u  to  see  if  I  could  get  you  to 
go  and  help  take  care  of  Lulu,  as  she  is  very  sick 
and  we  know  -not  what  to  do." 

u  Did  thee  not  know  my  boy  was  sick  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  did  not,  or  I  should  not  of  come," 
said  May. 

"  I  feel  very  sorry  for  thee,  but  I  can  not  leave 
my  child,  to  take  care  of  thy  niece." 

"  Well,"  said  May,  "  I  do  not  wish  you  to  do  so, 
but  we  are  in  trouble.  Lulu  is  very  sick,  and  I  am 
afraid  that  if  we  do  not  get  something  done  at  once 
dear  little  Lulu  will  die." 

"  Thee  go  back  and  do  what  thee  can,  and  she 
may  get  better,"  said  the  lady. 

"  But  folks  are  accusing  us  of  neglecting  dear, 
darling  Lulu,"  said  May. 

"Who  is  accusing  thee  of  neglecting  her  ?"  the 
good  lady  asked. 

"  Mrs.  Rebecca  F came  to-day  with  some  of 

her  friends,  and  she  abused  us  in  the  most  insult- 
ing way,  saying  that  it  was  only  put  on,  that  we 
only  made  believe  that  we  cared  for  Lulu.  She 
also  threw  out  slurs  against  my  friends  who 
have  just  been  laid  in  the  grave.  Oh,  dear,  what 
shall  I  do?" 


Suffering  Millions.  109 

"  Well,  replied  the  good  Quaker  lady,  "  we  all 
know  what  kind  of  a  woman  she  is.  Her  tongue 
is  ever  ready  to  condemn  the  innocent.  But  never 
mind.  May,  go  back,  do  the  best  thee  can  and  God 
will  bless  thee."  Then  turning  to  me  she  said,  "  it 
is  a  shame  for  Rebecca  to  so  abuse  May.  Had  it 
not  been  for  the  Montroville's  taking  her  in  when 
a  stranger  and  protecting  her,  Edmund  would  never 
have  married  her,  but  now  I  suppose  she  feels  in- 
dependent. As  the  bible  says, '  cast  not  thy  pearls 
before  swine,  least  they  turn  again  and  rend  thee,' 
I  suppose  this  is  the  way  she  is  paying  them  back." 

"Well, "said  I,  "I  do  feel  very  sorry  for  the 
Montroville's.  They  are  having  a  very  hard  time. 
We  all  know  and  so  does  this  Rebecca,  that  Lulu's 
mother  is  not  capable  of  taking  care  of  the  children 
when  they  are  well,  much  less  when  they  are  sick. 
Yet  she  is  very  hard  to  get  along  with.  She  is  not 
willing  for  the  Montroville's  to  do  as  they  would 
like  to  by  the  children.  Of  course  this  wicked 
woman  knew  this,  so  she  has  been  trying  to  make 
trouble.  But  the  devil  always  wants  some  one  to 
do  his  work  and  always  uses  just  such  persons  as 
she  to  perform  it." 

Then  turning  to  May,  I  said,  "  I  will  go  home 
with  you  and  do  all  I  can." 

But  as  my  experience  was  about  as  little  as  was 
May's,  I  felt  incapable  of  doing  as  much  good  as 
I  should  have  been  glad  to  have  done. 

"  As  we  started,  I  noticed  that  May  was  all  ex- 


110  Suffering  Millions. 

citement,  she  rushed  along  almost  on  the  run,  and 
exclaimed,  "  Oh,  I  do  not  know  what  to  do  for 
dear  Lulu!  I  can  not  give  her  up,  she  is  my  only 
comfort.  Dear,  dear  Lulu,  the  little  darling  girl. 
I  would  rather  die  than  to  give  her  up.  Tears 
streamed  down  May's  face.  Although  quick  tem- 
pered, yet  May's  heart  was  very  tender. 

"  Well,  May,"  said  I,  "  we  will  do  the  best  we 
can.  There  yet  may  be  some  chance  for  Lulu  to 
get  better."  But  I  noticed  May  was  very  anxious 
to  get  back  to  Lulu,  though  she  did  not  say  very 
much.  It  had  become  very  dark,  the  roads  were 
muddy,  and  as  we  hastened  along  we  saw  a  light 
at  the  lonely  dwelling,  and  as  we  approached  the 
house  we  heard  voices  and  soon  discovered  that 
there  were  people  in  the  house  talking  to  Lulu  and 
her  mother.  As  we  entered  the  house  we  soon 
noticed  that  there  were  several  neighbors,  also  a 
gentleman  and  lady,  people  of  culture  and  refine- 
ment, who  had  come  in  while  May  was  gone.  May 
had  become  so  nervous  and  excited  that  she  could 
not  understand  who  the  people  were.  Turning  to 
me  she  inquired,  in  a  whisper,  "  who  are  those 
people?  Are  they  friends  or  are  they  foes ?"  But 
this  I  could  not  tell,  as  I  had  never  before  seen 
them. 

The  gentleman  observed  that  we  were  some- 
what astonished  at  their  being  there,  so  turning  to 
me  he  said,  "I  was  very  much  surprised  a  few 
days  ago  to  hear  that  my  dear  friend,  William 


Suffering  Millions.  Ill 

Montroville,was  dead."  He  continued,  saying  that 
he  knew  William  very  well  while  in  the  army. 
"  William  was  one  of  my  bravest  and  best  soldiers," 
said  he.  "  I  have  never  seen  a  man  who  was  more 
daring  on  the  battle  field.  He  feared  not  the 
cannon's  roar,  and  when  blood  run  fast  and  deep 
we  could  always  depend  on  him.  1  learned  to 
love  him  for  his  warm  and  noble  spirit.  Although 
loyal,  yet  he  possessed  much  of  the  warm  nature 
of  southern  people,  and  because  of  this  he  was  of 
great  service  to  us.  A  few  days  ago  I  learned  the 
sad  news  of  his  death.  I  felt  very  much  pained 
that  I  did  not  learn  of  it  in  time  to  attend  the 
funeral,  and  now  I  have  come  to  see  if  I  can  be  of 
any  service  to  his  family." 

We  soon  were  made  to  understand  vho  the 
gentleman  was.  He  was  an  officer  in  the  regi- 
ment that  William  belonged  to  while  in  the  army, 
and  hearing  of  William's  death,  and  no  doubt 
learning  of  the  situation  of  his  family,  had  come, 
bringing  with  him  his  noble  wife,  to  assist  in  tak- 
ing care  of  William's  children.  I  noticed  he  was 
very  much  surprised  in  William's  wife.  He  at 
once  observed,  as  might  any  intelligent  person, 
that  she  was  unfitted  to  take  care  of  the  children. 
He  watched  May  for  a  while,  and  then  remarked 
to  me,  "  I  see  the  look  of  William  in  his  sister.  I 
know  she  must  be  his  sister,"  said  he,  as  she  is 
almost  his  very  picture." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  May  is  his  only  sister.     She  was 


112  Suffering  Millions. 

very  much  attached  to  her  brothers,  and  now 
seems  to  possess  an  undying  love  for  his  children, 
especially  little  Lulu." 

"  The  little  girl  is  very  sick,  is  she  not  ?"  said 
he.  "There  must  be  something  done  for  her  at 
once '.'' 

At  this  May  came  up  and  said, "  Yes,  dear  little 
Lulu  is  very  sick.  I  do  wish  something  could  be 
done  for  her.  We  have  lost  so  many  friends  that 
we  cannot  give  Lulu  up." 

At  this  the  officer's  face  first  grew  red,  then 
turned  pale.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  u  there  must  be 
something  done.  My  wife  is  a  splendid  nurse.  She 
will  be  glad  to  take  care  of  the  little  girl  for  a 
while  until  other  assistance  can  be  provided." 

At  this  May  was  so  glad  she  did  not  know 
hardly  what  to  do.  Now  instead  of  pandemonium, 
Elysian  shades  seemed  to  have  gathered. 

"How  I  pity  those  little  children  of  William 
Montroville's,"  said  Mrs.  Bradberry, "  because  it  is 
no  small  job  to  properly  care  for  little  children. 
The  impressions  made  on  the  mind  of  a  child  are 
very  important  indeed," 

u  I  know  they  are,"  said  a  friend  to  whom  she 
was  talking,  "  yet  we  often  see  little  ragged  chil- 
dren, fat,  and  as  healthy  as  they  can  be.  Open  air 
and  exercise  are  just  what  they  need.  I  well  re- 
member, and  to  my  sorrow,  too,  an  accident  that 
happened  to  me  when  I  was  quite  a  small  child. 
There  was  a  lady  visiting  at  our  house  who  had  a 


Suffering  Millions.  113 

very  sweet  little  baby  girl.  I  played  with  her  and 
thought  I  never  before  saw  a  child  quite  as  lovable 
as  it  was.  I  happened  to  notice  that  it  had  very  long 
finger  nails.  I  never  could  tell  what  caused  me  to 
do  it,  but  nevertheless  I  took  the  scissors  and  cut 
the  baby's  nails,  never  once  thinking  of  any  harm 
in  so  doing.  But  when  it's  mother  noticed  what  I 
had  done  the  poor  woman  took  her  baby  and  ap- 
peared half  frightened  to  death.  '  Why,'  said  she, 
'  it  is  a  sure  sign  that  a  baby  will  not  live  one  year 
if  its  finger  nails  are  cut  before  it  is  a  year  old.'  It 
seems  that  there  is  an  old  superstitious  saying  to 
this  effect  but  of  course  I  had  never  heard  it,  for 
if  I  had  I  would  not  have  done  it  for  anything  in 
the  world.  I  was  very  much  frightened  and  very 
sorry  indeed  for  what  I  had  done.  My  mother  also 
gave  me  a  good  scolding,  which  of  course  I  needed. 
The  poor  woman  went  home  believing  that  her 
child  would  surely  die,  and  as  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  the  baby  did  not  live  more  than  two  weeks. 
But  of  course  the  cutting  of  those  nails  had  no 
more  to  do  with  its  death,  than  do  any  of  those 
old  superstitious  sayings.  But  when  my  poor 
mother  heard  it  she  thoughtlessly  gave  me  an- 
other very  severe  scolding,  never  once  thinking  of 
the  injury  she  was  doing  me.  Of  course  I  thought 
I  had  surely  caused  that  sweet  little  babe's  death. 
I  naturally  was  very  nervous,  and  that  baby's 
death  so  frightened  me  that  I  truly  believe  I  suf- 
fered every  pang  of  an  actual  criminal.  After  I 


114  Suffering  Millions. 

had  retired  to  bed  I  would  begin  to  think  of  the 
baby,  would  turn  icy  cold  and  tremble  from  head 
to  foot.  1  would  sometimes  imagine  that  I  could 
hear  demons  in  my  room.  I  began  to  feel  very 
poorly  in  health,  arid  finally  went  into  a  nervous 
decline.  I  did  not  speak  to  my  mother  about  the 
cause  of  my  suffering,  because  I  was  afraid  to  do 
so.  Poor  woman,  kind  and  good  as  she  was  to  me, 
yet  they  had  made  the  wrong  impression  on  my 
mind,  which  neither  they  nor  any  medical  skill 
could  cure.  For  months  and  months  I  suffered 
and  suffered,  and  even  after  years  had  rolled  away 
I  would  turn  icy  cold  when  I  thought  of  that  sweet 
little  baby,  and  as  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  never 
fully  recovered  until  I  was  old  enough  to  learn  for 
myself  how  foolish  such  superstitious  sayings  were. 
In  reality  I  had  only  done  what  should  have  been 
done  by  its  mother,  for  with  its  long  nails  it  nat- 
urally would  hurt  its  poor  little  self.  I  always 
feel  very  indignant  at  those  willful  nurses  that 
will  frighten  little  children  half  to  death  in  order 
to  make  them  afraid  of  them." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Bradberry's  friend,  k'  I  know 
there  are  very  many  little  children  that  on  ac- 
count of  wrong  impressions  suffer  very  much,  aside 
from  careless  neglect.  '  Oh,  precious  childhood.' 
There  is  naught  so  sweet  as  an  innocent  child.  No 
wonder  the  Savior  said,  '  suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.'  The  mind  of  a  child  to 


Suffering  Millions.  115 

thoroughly  develop,  should  be  occupied  with 
pleasant  amusement,  and  as  it  grows  older  should 
be  encouraged  with  higher  and  holier  aspirations. 
I  don't  believe  that  a  child  unless  surrounded  with 
things  that  are  bright  and  cheerful,  can  possibly 
be  happy." 


116  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XIII, 


The  next  morning  I  thought  I  would  call  on 

Mrs.  Rebecca ,  as  she  lived  just  across  the 

road,  and  find  out  if  I  could,  why  she  had  so 
abused  May.  I  therefore  went. 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs. ,  nice  morning." 

"  Very  nice.    Come  in  and  be  seated." 

"  Your  folks  all  seem  to  be  well  and  enjoying 
the  blessings  of  life  and  a  pleasant  home." 

"  Oh !  yes,  we  usually  are  well,  and  have  much 
to  enjoy  in  our  home." 

"  What  a  blessing  good  health  and  a  pleasant 
home  is.  But  all  people  are  not  so  fortunate  as  to 
have  them." 

"1  suppose  there  are  some  who  are  not,  but 
usually,  I  think,  it  is  their  own  fault." 

u  Well,"  said  I,  u  I  hear  the  Montrovilles  are 
having  a  sad  time  now  that  little  Lulu  is  sick." 

"  Oh  !  they  are  always  having  a  bad  time.  Some 
folks  make  a  great  fuss  over  a  mighty  little  thing." 

"  Yes,  but  sickness,  and  death,  are  not  such  little 
things,  after  all,"  said  I.  "  Have  you  been  over  to 
see  them  ? " 

"  Yes,  but  I'll  not  step  my  foot  in  the  house 
again,  if  they  all  lay  there  and  die,"  said  she. 

"  What  is  your  reason  for  saying  so  ?  " 


Suffering  Millions.  117 

"  Oh  !  yesterday  I  called  there,  with  my  brother 
and  a  friend,  and  I  just  happened  to  remark  that 
the  Montrovilles  always  pretended  to  think  so 
much  of  Lulu,  but  that  it  was  no  such  a  thing,  as 
the  child  was  really  suffering  for  care.  May  sat 
there  all  dressed  in  mourning,  as  if  she  had  lost 
every  friend  in  the  world,"  said  Rebecca. 

"  Well,  you  know  she  has  in  a  short  time  lost 
mother,  father,  and  brother,  and  has  not  many 
relatives  left.  No  doubt  she  feels  like  dressing 
in  mourning." 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  just  made  Jane — by 
this  she  meant  Lulu's  mother,  although  it  was  not 
her  true  name,  but  by  this  name  we  now  will  call 
her — understand  about  what  I  thought.  I  just 
said  everything  I  could  think  of.  I  got  fighting 
mad.  I  told  May  she  had  better  take  off  that 
dress  and  do  something  for  Lulu." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  but  you  know  there  is  Lulu's 
mother  who  does  not  like  May  very  much,  which 
makes  it  hard  for  her  to  do  anything.  It  is  a  pity 
that  Jane  cannot  take  care  of  her  children." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  but  she  don't  know  enough  to  come 
in  out  of  the  rain,"  Rebecca  replied,  "  and  if  she 
did,  she  is  so  trifling  and  dirty  that  it  would  make 
a  well  person  sick  for  her  to  do  anything  for 
them." 

"  So  you  see  it  is  difficult,  do  you  not  ?  The 
Montrovilles  are  placed  in  a  very  trying  position," 
said  I. 


118  Suffering  Millions. 

"  Oh  yes,  but  I  would  do  something,"  said  she. 

"  Well,  what  would  you  do  ? " 

"  Well,  I  would  do  something  ! " 

"  But  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  just  what  I  would  do,  but  I 
would  do  something,"  she  went  on  to  say. 

"That  is  just  as  I  thought.  It  is  pretty  hard  to 
say  just  what  one  will  do  until  they  have  tried 
it,"  said  I. 

"  I  don't  care.  I  just  gave  that  good-for-nothing 
May  to  understand  what  I  thought  of  the  Montro- 
villes.  At  this  May  got  mad  and  called  me  all 
kinds  of  names.  At  last  my  brother  took  it  up, 
and  he  told  her  what  he  thought  of  her.  We  had 
the  young  lady  just  where  we  wanted  her.  We 
give  it  to  her.  Jane  came  very  near  ordering  her 
out  of  the  house.  I  told  Jane  I  would,  if  I  were 
her.  At  this  May  stamped  her  foot  and  said  it 
was  her  father's  house,  and  then  she  ordered  my 
brother  out  of  doors." 

"  Well,  it  is  her  father's  house,  or  was  when  he 
was  living,  and  I  suppose  she  thought  she  had  a 
perfect  right  to  order  him  out." 

"  But  I  want  you  to  understand  that  he  did  not 
go.  He  just  got  up  and  I  thought  he  would  strike 
her,  for  she  is  one  of  the  most  provoking  things 
I  ever  saw.  He  was  just  giving  her  fits,  when  lo, 
and  behold,  in  came  one  of  her  gentleman  friends, 
and  don't  you  believe  he  had  the  impudence  to 
pull  off  his  coat  as  quick  as  a  flash,  and  step  up  to 


Suffering  Millions.  119 

my  brother  and  demand  what  all  this  fuss  was 
about.  At  this  my  brother  said  not  another  word, 
bat  just  left  the  house  at  once,  as  he  always  thinks 
peace  is  the  best  thing.  That  fellow  no  doubt 
thinks  himself  very  brave.  My  brother  is  twice 
as  large  as  he  is.  But  you  know  he  did  not  believe 
in  quarreling,  because  he  loves  peace." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  I,  "  in  that  case  it  was  best  for 
him  to  love  peace,  because  that  fellow,  although 
not  as  large  as  your  brother,  is  not  to  be  fooled 
with." 

"But  didn't  I  tell  him  as  soon  as  my  brother 
was  gone  that  no  one  was  to  blame  but  May?" 
Rebecca  replied. 

"  What  did  he  say  then  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Oh  !  he  said  he  did  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  a 
woman." 

u  Well,  I  expect  he  is  somewhat  as  I  am,  does 
not  want  to  see  it  all  on  one  side  of  a  question." 

"  Well,  I  don't  care,  my  brother  and  I  both  felt 
like  stomping  May,  and  I  believe  he  would  have 
done  it,  if  that  impudent  fellow  had  not  come  just 
as  he  did." 

At  this  she  became  so  excited,  and  talked  so 
loud,  that  her  husband  came  in  to  see  what  was 
going  on.  I  now  thought  I  had  better  say  no  more 
to  her  on  the  subject,  so  I  said  "  Good  morning, 
Mr.  F—  — ." 

"  Good  morning,"  said  he,  "  we  are  having  some 
excitement  this  morning  " — winking  at  me  as  if  to 


120  Suffering  Millions. 

say,  he  was  not  quite  well  pleased  with  the  way 
his  wife  was  going  on. 

"  Oh,  your  wife  and  I  were  just  talking  about 
those  Montrovilles.  I  suppose  you  know  they  are 
again  afflicted?" 

"  Yes.  Poor  little  Lulu  is  such  a  nice  little  girl, 
I  am  very  sorry  for  her.  It  is  a  pity  that  her 
mother  is  such  a  careless  person." 

"  What  do  you  think  about  them  ?  "  said  I. 

u  Well,  I  must  confess,  that  I  do  not  know  what 
to  think.  I  never  before  saw  such  a  difficult  case. 
It  is  very  sad  on  account  of  the  inability  of  Lulu's 
mother  to  take  care  of  her  children."  Then  Mr- 

F went  on  to  say  that  he  had  known  Jane 

since  she  was  a  little  girl  and  that  she  was  always 
just  so  trifling.  No  one  could  ever  do  anything 
with  her. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  I,  "  I  think  I  have  heard  that 
you  are  a  distant  relative  of  Jane." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  F ,  •'  I  am.  Jane  and  I 

were  raised  together.  I  lived  in  the  same  family 
with  her  for  years.  Her  father  was  one  of  the 
nicest  men  I  ever  knew.  He  was  a  man  who  was 
loved  and  respected  by  all  who  knew  him." 

14  It  is  very  strange,  then,"  said  I,  "  that  Jane  is 
the  person  she  is,  so  incapable  of  taking  care  of 
her  children." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  F ,  "Jane,  while  yet  very 

young,  was  afflicted  with  a  very  peculiar  disease, 
which  affected  her  mentally.  Although  at  first  it 


Suffering  Millions.  121 

was  not  noticed  much,  yet  I  think  that  it  grows  on 
her.  Her  father  spent  hundreds  of  dollars  on  her, 
but  it  was  of  no  use,  although  since  she  has  grown 
to  be  a  woman  she  enjoys  good  health.  Yet  she 
possesses  no  faculty  of  making  her  home  pleasant 
or  doing  any  kind  of  work  well." 

u  It  made  it  very  bad  for  William,  he  married 
her  while  he  was  yet  very  young  and  upon  very 
short  acquaintance." 

"  Her  mother  told  me  that  if  she  had  had  any 
idea  of  their  getting  married  she  would  have  told 
William  all  about  Jane.  But  she  said  that  never 
such  an  idea  entered  her  head.  Jane  knew  that 
her  folks  were  opposed  to  her  getting  married, 
she  therefore  was  married  unbeknown  to  them. 
Of  course  we  kept  it  quite  secret  about  her  inabil- 
ity to  learn  to  work.  In  this  I  now  think  we  did 
wrong.  In  some  respects  Jane  was  quick  and 
active,  and  while  young  looked  very  well,  but  as 
the  care  of  a  family  became  hers  to  perform  she 
seemed  to  lose  all  ability  to  do  anything  as 
it  should  be  done.  My  first  wife,  who  now  lies 
in  her  grave  said  that  she  never  felt  so  sorry 
for  any  one  in  her  life  as  she  did  for  Mr.  Montro- 
ville,  William's  father.  Shortly  after  William 
married  Jane,  Mr.  Montroville  knew  that  I  was  a 
distant  relative  of  hers,  and  after  William  had 
brought  his  wife  home  to  live  with  his  folks,  Mr. 
Montroville  at  once  noticed  that  she  was  no  wife 
for  William.  He  therefore  came  to  our  house  to 


122  Suffering  Millions. 

inquire  about  her.  Of  course  my  dear  wife  could 
not  lie  and  just  told  him  the  truth.  It  fairly  over- 
come Mr.  Montroville  who  at  once  saw  that  his 
boy  was  ruined,  and  we  felt  very  sorry  for  him. 
Mr.  Montroville  was  a  very  intelligent  man,  who 
loved  his  children  very  much.  He  was  also  a  very 
nice  man  and  one  who  did  not  believe  in  people 
being  divorced  after  marriage.  '  Now  that  they 
are  married,'  said  he, '  we  will  have  to  make  the 
best  of  it.  It  was  for  Mr.  Montroville's  sake  I 
have  ever  felt  £  great  interest  in  William  and  his 
children." 

u  What  a  pity,"  said  I,  "  that  a  young  boy  should 
have  made  such  a  mistake  and  brought  such  sor- 
row on  his  friends ;  but  he  was  young  and  no  doubt 
loved  well,  but  not  wisely,  and  as  she  belonged  to 
a  nice  family  I  suppose  he  thought  he  was  doing 
well." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  F ,  "  I  know  some  peo- 
ple lay  great  stress  upon  the  character  of  the  fam- 
ily that  a  person  marries  into,  but  I  think  wisdom 
should  dictate  the  choice,  and  not  the  family. 
Some  of  the  worst  marriages  I  ever  knew,  were 
those  of  people  who  belonged  to  good  families. 
Of  course  it  is  a  good  thing,  if  possible,  to  belong 
to  a  good  family,  but  the  family  is  not  all.  Some 
of  the  best  and  greatest  persons  who  ever  lived 
were  those  belonging  to  ordinary  families." 

Said  I,  "  this  marriage  has  taught  me  that  you 
are  right,  that  people  in  chosing  a  companion  had 


Suffering  Millions.  123 

better  look  at  the  person,  instead  of  trying  to  find 
out  whether  their  ancestors  were  born  of  noble 
blood,  or  cradled  in  a  manger." 

"  I  know,"  said   Mr.  F ,  "  there  are   some 

low  people  who  censure  the  Montrovilles,  but  I 
guess  I  know  as  well  as  anyone  that  they  are  not 
to  blame.  I  was  very  much  opposed  to  my  wife's 
conduct  in  abusing  them  yesterday." 

At  this  a  clear  voice  rang  out  from  the  kitchen  : 
"  You  had  better  mind  your  own  business ;  you 
will  stick  up  for  those  low-lived  Montrovilles ; 
that  is  all  you  know.  You  think  that  those  chil- 
dren, especially  Lulu,  are  little  angels,  but  I  want 
you  to  understand  that  you,  or  no  one  else,  in  my 
house  shall  so  applaud  that  trifling  set."  At  this 
Mrs.  Rebecca  came  rushing  in,  and  in  the  most 

abusive    language    told    Mr.   F what    she 

thought  of  him.  Her  tongue,  I  thought,  came  the 
nearest  to  perpetual  motion  of  anything  yet  dis- 
covered. 

At  this  Mr.  F replied,  "  If  I  were  you  and 

made  the  profession  of  religion  that  you  do,  I 
would  not  talk  so  about  the  Montrovilles.  Did 
they  not  when  you  were  a  stranger,  take  you  in 
and  do  all  they  could  for  you  ?  If  it  had  not  been 
for  them  I  never  should  have  married  you." 

"  Oh  !  married  me !  I  did  not  marry  you  !  It 
was  your  money  I  married.  But  now,  thanks  to 
myself,  I  do  not  need  their  sympathy,  or  yours 


124  Suffering  Millions. 

either;  one  third  of  your  money  is  enough  to 
make  me  independent." 

" Oh  yes!  I  have  long  since  learned  that  it  was 
my  money  and  not  me  you  married,"  getting 
excited  and  stamping  his  foot  upon  the  floor,  he 
exclaimed.  "  Yes,  because  of  my  dear  wife,  my 
first  love,  the  wife  of  my  bosom,  who  now  lies  in 
the  grave,  I  do  love  those  Montrovilles.  Yes,  and 
for  her  sake  I  love  that  hot-headed  May,  too,  and 
William's  little  orphan  children."  Then  turning 
to  me  he  said,  "  My  dear  wife  was  much  attached 
to  the  Montrovilles,  before  her  death.  She  and 
May  spent  hours  together.  She  loved  May  and 
dear  little  Lulu,  and  if  I  did  not  know  that  they 
had  been  kind  to  this  woman  that  now  so  abuses 
them,  I  might  think  differently." 

I  now  saw  that  both  were  getting  so  excited  that 
I  had  better  go,  so  I  therefore  bade  them  good  bye 
and  departed." 

As  I  was  leaving  this  home  of  comfort,  posses- 
sing many  of  the  luxuries  of  life,  I  could  but  think 
how  little  thi.-;  woman  appreciated  its  comforts. 
My  mind  wandered  to  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes,  to 
the  words  of  King  Solomon,  5  chap.,  10  v.,  "  He 
that  loveth  silver  shall  not  be  satisfied  with  silver; 
nor  he  that  loveth  abundance  with  increase." 

As  I  entered  the  dismal  dwelling  where  the 
suffering  child  lay,  I  could  but  notice  the  differ- 
ence in  the  two  homes.  This  one  being  so  untidy, 
everything  dirty  and  uncomfortable.  I  said  in  my 


Suffering  Millions.  125 

heart,  oh,  earth  !  thy  ways  are  hard  to  understand, 
but  then  I  rejoice  in  that  blessed  promise,  "  That 
the  rough  places  should  be  made  smooth."  While 
I  was  gone  the  gentleman  and  lady  had  taken 
their  departure,  promising  to  return  before  long. 
Now  Jane,  Lulu,  and  myself  were  alone,  so  I 
thought  I  would  try  and  get  on  the  good  side  of 
Jane,  as  I  knew  this  was  quite  important  for  Lulu's 
sake. 

"Well,  Jane,"  said  I,  "I  think  that  Mrs. 

F -  was  very  much  out  of  place  yesterday  in 

talking  as  she  did,  and  in  trying  to  make  hard  feel- 
ings between  you  and  the  Monlrovilles." 

"  Well,"  said  Jane,  "  maybe  she  was,  but  then  I 
don't  like  to  have  May  here  trying  to  take  care  of 
Lulu.  I  guess  she  thinks  I  don't  know  enough  to 
take  care  of  my  own  children.  I  just  want  her  to 
stay  away  and  mind  her  own  business  and  I  will 
take  care  of  myself." 

"  But,"  said  I,  u  you  know  Lulu  is  very  near  to 
May,  for  Lulu  has  always  lived  with  May,  and  her 
parents." 

At  this  little  Lulu  said,  "ma,  why  do  you  not 
want  Aunt  May  to  stay  with  us  ?  She  is  so  good  to 
me.  I  want  aunt  May  right  by  me." 

I  now  noticed  how  much  better  Lulu  was,  after 
the  good  care  she  had  received  from  the  good 
lady  and  her  husband,  who  had  so  kindly  taken 
care  of  her  all  through  the  long  hours  of  the  night. 

Lulu   was   a  very  thoughtful   child.    She  very 


126  Suffering  Millions. 

well  understood  her  mother's  inability  to  take  care 
of  her.  She  had  always  been  taken  care  of  by  her 
grandma,  until  her  death,  and  since  that  time  May 
had  looked  after  her  with  a  mother's  tender  love. 
I  never  saw  a  mother  watch  her  child  with  more 
tender  care  than  did  May  watch  Lulu.  I  have 
often  remarked  that  the  love  that  should  have 
burned  in  her  mother's  breast,  God  for  some 
reason  unknown,  planted  in  the  heart  of  May. 
Although  May  and  Lulu,  as  I  have  said  before, 
were  just  as  different  as  they  could  be.  May  was 
very  quick  tempered,  nervous,  and  impatient, 
while  Lulu  was  mild,  gentle,  and  lovable,  a  gem 
of  purity  and  innocence.  I  now  said  to  Jane  as 
gently  as  I  could,  "  oh !  well,  you  had  better  be 
willing  for  May  to  help  you  take  care  of  Lulu,  as 
Lulu  wants  her  so  badly." 

At  this  Jane  said,  "  no,  I  do  not  want  the  good- 
for-nothing  thing  to  come  here  again." 

At  this  Lulu  began  to  cry  and  said,  "  oh  !  ma,  I 
do  want  Aunt  May  to  take  care  of  me,  for  if  she 
don't  I  will  die." 

I  now  quickly  changed  the  conversation.  I  saw 
it  would  not  do  for  Lulu  to  hear  any  more,  so  I 
laughingly  said,  "  never  mind,  Lulu,  we  will  take 
good  care  of  you ;  and  just  as  soon  as  you  are  able 
I  will  take  you  to  town  and  get  you  something 
nice."  This  seemed  to  satisfy  the  child,  and  she 
now  dropped  to  sleep. 

Just  then  I  happened  to  look  out  of  the  window, 


Suffering  Millions.  127 

and  who  should  I  see  but  the  gentleman  and  lady 
again  drive  up.  They  got  out  of  their  sleigh  and 
came  into  the  house. 

"  We  were  so  interested  about  the  little  girl," 
said  the  lady  that  we  could  not  be  content  at 
home,  and  have  come  back  to  see  if  we  could  not 
render  farther  service." 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  said  the  gentleman,  that 
as  my  business  calls  for  my  constant  attention 
at  home,  as  also  does  my  wife's,  that  if  all  are 
agreed,  we  will  take  the  little  child  to  our  home 
and  do  all  in  our  power  for  her.  Just  then  in  came 
the  doctor,  and  as  Lulu  was  still  sleeping  the  gen- 
tleman made  his  intentions  known  to  him.  The 
doctor  seemed  very  much  pleased,  as  well  as  sur- 
prised to  meet  so  fine  a  gentleman  and  lady  there. 

"By  all  means."  said  the  doctor,  "to  stay  is 
death,  to  go  may  be  a  chance  for  life.  The  little  girl 
seems  to  be  a  very  fine  child ;  takes  after  her 
father.  I  was  well  acquainted  with  him.  He  was 
a  noble  fellow." 

The  doctor  then  awoke  Lulu,  and  pronounced 
her  some  better.  He  asked  her  if  she  would  not 
like  to  take  a  sleigh  ride,  and  get  away  from  her 
unpleasant  home.  Lulu  seemed  delighted.  They 
then  consulted  Lulu's  mother,  and  she  seemed 
glad  to  have  her  go. 

"  The  gentleman,  his  wife,  and  the  doctor  held 
a  private  conversation,  which  they  seemed  not  to 
want  us  to  hear,  after  which  the  gentleman  said, 


128  Suffering  Millions. 

"  wife  and  1  will  go  home  and  make  necessary 
arrangements,  and  return  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  gentleman's  home  was  not  many  miles 
away,  and  with  his  fine  horses  they  soon  made  the 
trip.  They  returned,  bringing  with  them,  nicely 
arranged  in  their  sleigh,  a  nice  warm  bed,  with  soft 
woolen  blankets,  and  everything  to  make  the  little 
girl  comfortable.  And  then  as  lovingly  as  a  ten- 
der mother  she  bore  the  little  girl  away  to  their 
comfortable  home.  It  st-emed  almost  like  rescuing 
the  little  girl  from  the  jaws  of  death.  She  was  so 
well  cared  for  that  the  ride  appeared  to  do  her 
good.  The  gentleman  had  no  children  of  his  own, 
although  he  had  a  father's  heart.  The  lady  was 
one  of  those  angelic,  motherly  women,  who  took 
the  little  girl  in  her  fond  embrace  and  did  all  in 
her  power  to  restore  her  to  health  again.  They 
stood  by  the  little  child  all  night,  watching  almost 
every  change  of  breath,  so  anxious  were  they  for 
the  morning  to  dawn  to  see  if  the  ride  had  made 
the  child  worse.  But  at  the  break  of  day,  the  little 
girl  awoke,  looked  around  to  see  where  she  was, 
and  as  the  lady  bent  over  her  she  recognized  her 
friend  and  began  to  smile.  The  lady  now  saw  that 
the  child  was  much  better.  They  now  took  new 
courage  to  labor  on. 


Suffering  Millions-  129 


CHAPTER  XIV, 


This  noble  gentleman,  and  lady,  now  opened 
their  hearts,  as  well  as  their  home  to  May  and 
Lulu's  mother.  The  lady  remarked  to  me,  "  Lulu 
is  very  sick.  I  fear  she  may  never  be  any  better, 
and  while  at  my  house  her  friends  are  welcome  to 
see  her  as  often  as  they  wish." 

Days  passed  by  and  still  the  little  girl  remained 
very  low,  sometimes  it  was  thought  she  could  not 
possibly  live  through  the  long  hours  of  the  night, 
but  still  this  kind  lady  and  gentleman  stood  by 
the  little  sufferer  and  watched  her  with  a  parent's 
tender  care.  At  one  time,  in  the  dead  hour  of  the 
night,  it  seemed  that  the  little  girl's  breath  was 
growing  shorter,  the  little  frail  form  lay  so  help- 
less. The  lady  stood  by  her  as  long  as  she  could 
and  then  left  the  room. 

"  I  found  my  wife  weeping  bitterly,"  remarked 
the  gentleman.  "  I  said  to  her,  cheer  up  we  will 
not  give  the  little  girl  up.  She  will  live  for  some 
good  purpose  yet,  I  hope." 

As  they  returned  to  the  bedside  where  the  child 
lay,  hardly  knowing  whether  the  gem  or  just  the 
casket  would  remain,  to  their  delight  the  breath 
came  faster,  the  flush  of  the  rose  tinted  the  pale 
cheek  of  the  child  and  hope  still  remained.  How 


130  Suffering  Millions. 

animated  they  together  labored  on,  and  with  the 
the  aid  of  the  skillful  physician,  the  child  began 
to  recover.  May  now  seemed  very  much  de- 
lighted, and  said  to  me,  "dear  little  Lulu  will  now 
recover,  but  I  fear  if  she  goes  back  to  her  home 
with  the  care  she  will  there  receive,  she  may 
again  be  sick.  Oh,  dear!  if  she  could  only  live 
with  this  lady  she  would  be  so  well  taken  care  of." 

Lulu  made  rapid  progress  toward  recovery,  and 
just  as  May  had  feared,  as  soon  as  the  child  was 
able  to  sit  up,  her  mother  began  to  urge  her 
to  go  home ;  and  of  course,  child  like,  Lulu 
thought  it  would  be  nice  to  again  be  at  home. 
Jane  would  coax  and  tease  the  child  when  alone 
until  she  would  cry  and  tease  the  lady  to  take  her 
home.  Of  course  the  lady  knew  that  no  doubt  by 
carelessness  the  child  would  be  exposed  to  all 
kinds  of  weather  and  again  be  sick.  Yet  lady- 
like she  said  it  is  her  mother,  and  I  do  not  wish  to 
dictate,  yet  I  do  fear  for  the  child.  When  May 
found  out  how  things  were  going,  she  told  Lulu 
that  she  had  better  stay  with  the  kind  lady,  "  for," 
said  she.  "  if  you  go  home  you  may  take  cold  and 
then  you  will  be  sick  again  and  no  doubt  die." 

As  Lulu  was  a  very  thoughtful  child  she  knew 
what  May  had  said  was  true,  she  therefore  said  no 
more  about  going  home  until  she  had  fully  recov- 
ered. The  lady  said  to  me,  "  I  never  saw  such  in- 
fluence as  May  exerts  over  Lulu.  After  her 
mother  had  coaxed  her  to  come  home  I  could 


Suffering  Millions.  131 

scarcely  take  care  of  the  child.  Of  course,"  said 
she,  "  Lulu  is  young  and  knows  not  what  is  best 
for  her,  but  she  has  good  judgment;  much  more 
than  her  mother." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  do  wish  some  good  person 
could  take  the  child  and  raise  her  as  she  should  be 
raised,  for  she  is  a  lovely  girl." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  lady,  "  Lulu  is  a  very 
fine  little  girl,  but  it  would  be  very  hard  for  any  one 
to  get  along  with  her  mother.  The  child  would  be 
a  thousand  times  better  off  if  she  had  no  mother. 
Then  some  one  couid  take  the  child  and  care  for 
her,  but  the  way  it  is,  it  would  be  impossible  to  do 
anything  with  her,  as  her  mother  uses  no  reason  or 
judgment." 

Jane  went  home  to  stay,  but  as  it  was  lonesome 
there  she  thought  it  would  be  just  as  well  for  Lulu 
at  home  as  it  was  for  her,  so  back  she  went  to  the 
gentleman's  house  after  Lulu.  Finally,  after  noth- 
ing else  would  do,  they  took  Lulu  home,  no  doubt 
regretting  that  the  little  girl  was  not  their  own. 

Much  might  be  said  in  praise  of  this  gentleman 
and  lady.  Their  work  was  a  work  well  done.  It 
has  been  many  years  since  that  gentleman  heard 
the  welcome  summons:  "Well  done  thou  good 
and  faithful  servant,  enter  thou  into  thy  rest,"  and 
as  "the  memory  of  the  just  is  blessed,"  he  still 
lives  to-day  in  my  memory,  and  as  "  a  good  name 
is  rather  to  be  chosen  than  great  riches,"  what 
name  is  above  the  name  of  one  who  will  deny  self 


132  Suffering  Millions. 

for  the  love  they  have  for  suffering  humanity  ? 
The  lady  still  lives,  and  still  her  work,  noble  in- 
deed, is  for  the  good  of  orphan  children. 

Jane  now  undertook  to  keep  house,  but  wretched 
work  indeed  did  she  make  of  it.  Things  were  so 
illy  arranged  and  so  untidy,  that  there  was  not  one 
ray  of  cheerfulness  there.  Sad  is  the  home  where 
the  mother  has  no  faculty  of  making  things  cheer- 
ful. This  one  thing  does  more  toward  wayward 
and.  wandering  children  than  anything  else. 
Wealth  is  not  necessaiily  required  to  make  home 
pleasant.  It  is  well  to  study  the  likes  and  dislikes 
of  children.  Little  things  in  a  child's  life  are 
those  that  are  long  remembered.  The  child  is 
quick  to  notice  any  defect  in  its  parent  or  its 
home.  My  heart  has  often  been  pained  by  care- 
less, trifling  parents,  who  have  been  the  means  of 
bringing  bright  and  intelligent  children  into  the 
world,  and  then  act  as  if  their  mission  was  done, 
and  let  them  grow  up  just  like  weeds,  without  ex- 
erting themselves  for  their  welfare,  and  often  com- 
plaining, "Oh!  my  family  is  so  large  I  can 
scarcely  provide  bread  for  them  to  eat."  "  I  have 
no  time  or  money  with  which  to  educate  my  chil- 
dren." Who  is  to  blame,  I  would  ask,  for  the 
large  family  ?  The  child  or  the  parent  ?  Can  a 
child  help  being  brought  into  the  world  by  a  low, 
trifling  parent?  I  answer,  no,  no  more  than  the 
child  born  to  a  king  can  help  being  the  child  of 
royal  blood.  Yet  ofttimes  the  innocent  child  that 


Suffering  Millions.  133 

is  born  to  a  low  parent,  not  only  suffers  by  having 
to  be  raised  in  a  dismal  and  sickly  home,  but  is 
pointed  out  by  children  that  happen  to  be  born  to 
parents  of  higher  and  nobler  blood  as  the  child  of 
Old  So  and  So.  Many  are  the  hearts  of  poor  little 
children  that  have  bled,  on  account  of  just  such 
treatment;  that  have  felt  the  world's  cold  frown, 
and  well  understood  the  cause.  But  it  was  be- 
yond their  power  to  help  their  condition. 

I  feel  to  reproach  the  parent  who  by  low  pas- 
sions will  bring  helpless  children  into  the  world, 
and  then  do  nothing  to  make  home  pleasant  for 
them.  A  father  who  has  no  tender  love  for  his  off- 
spring is  not  fit  for  a  father.  Parents  who  are  not 
capable  of  raising  their  children  right,  should  not 
have  children.  I  think  it  is  a  mistake  for  persons 
who  are  authorized  to  marry  people  to  solemnize 
a  marriage  where  the  applicants  are  not  persons 
capable  of  bringing  up  children  as  they  should  be 
brought  up.  I  am  glad  that  the  law  now  of  the 
United  States  compels  parents  to  send  their  child- 
ren a  short  time  each  year  to  school.  Yet,  sorry 
that  the  law  is  not  enforced  as  it  should  be. 

It  is  always  such  low  parson?,  a^  I  have  tried  to. 
describe,  should  one  of  their  children  struggle 
through  all  the  discouragements  as  well  as  embar- 
rassments, and  make  a  success  in  life,  who  dwell 
on  the  commandment,  u  Honor  thy  father  and  thy 
mother,"  forgetting  that  the  first  duty  is  from  the 
parent  to  the  child,  instead  of  the  child  to  the 


134  Suffering  Millions. 

parent.  "  Parents  provoke  not  your  children  to 
wrath,  but  bring  them  up  in  the  fear  and  admoni- 
tion of  the  Lord." 

I  knew  a  father  once  who  ^ad  a  very  intelligent 
son.  The  son  was  ambitious,  and  bound  to  make 
a  success  of  life.  He  labored  hard  to  accumulate 
some  property.  The  old  man  became  so  indignant 
at  his  son  because  he  would  not  spend  all  of  his 
money  to  uphold  him  in  business,  and  procure 
him  drink  that  he  applied  to  the  county  for  assist- 
ance in  order  to  disgrace  him. 

As  Lulu  was  getting  old  enough  to  look  a  little 
after  her  own  welfare,  she  did  not,  as  had  been 
anticipated,  have  a  relapse,  but  there  was  little 
to  make  her  cheerful  and  happy.  Little  Willie, 
(the  baby)  of  whom  we  have  before  spoken  as  a 
bright  little  fellow,  was  just  as  cute  as  he  could 
be.  He  would  try  and  amuse  himself  in  every 
imaginable  way.  He  had  a  great  idea  of  being  a 
doctor,  and  very  often  would  do  up  paper  in  little 
packages,  similar  to  those  done  up  by  doctors  for 
their  powders,  and  then  feel  of  our  pulses  and 
say,  "  you  are  sick,  you  had  better  take  some  med- 
icine." Then  he  would  give  some  of  his  little 
powders  to  us.  I  have  often  thought  had  he  been 
well  taken  care  of  he  might  have  made  a  very 
smart  man,  but  the  little  fellow  was  allowed  to 
run  around  in  the  cold,  ofttimes  barefooted;  not 
for  the  want  of  shoes,  but  because  his  mother  was 
too  indolent  to  put  them  on,  or  had  no  idea  of  the 


Suffering  Millions.  135 

importance  of  keeping  her  children  warm  and 
properly  dressed  in  uncomfortable  weather.  It 
was  one  cold  day  in  March.  Snow  still  remained 
on  the  ground.  The  little  fellow  had  been  play- 
ing in  the  snow  barefooted,  which  of  course  he 
could  not  endure,  and  he  was  too  young  to  know 
what  was  best  for  himself.  I  called,  with  a  friend 
to  see  how  the  children  were  getting  along,  and 
Jane  told  us  that  Willie  had  a  chill.  I  was  not  at 
all  surprised,  as  I  knew  how  he  had  been  exposed 
to  the  weather.  I  said  to  the  child,  "Willie,  you 
are  sick,  are  you  not?"  He  made  no  reply.  I 
noticed  he  had  some  fever,  and  apparently  was 
quite  sick. 

"  Well,"  said  I  to  Jane,  "  we  will  go  down  to 
Ward's  and  take  di  mer,  ani  after  dinner  we  will 
return  to  see  how  Willie  is  getting  along." 

The  reason  we  went  to  Ward's  for  our  dinner 
was  because  Jane  never  tried  to  entertain  any 
one,  and  if  she  did  at  any  time  muster  up  enough 
energy  to  get  a  meal  of  victuals,  it  was  in  such  a 
condition  that  a  person  of  any  intelligence  could 
not  partake  of  it.  As  we  were  going  to  Wards', 
who  liyed  just  a  short  distance  from  Jane's,  my 
friend  remarked  to  me,  "it  is  just  awful  how  those 
little  children  have  to  be  exposed  to  all  kinds  of 
bad  management.  How  strange  it  is  that  they  are 
such  nice  and  intelligent  children." 

"Did  you  ever  before  see  such  a  difficult  case  to 
manage  ?  "  said  I. 


136  Suffering  Millions. 

"No,  indeed  I  did  not.  No  wonder  William 
died  so  young.  He  had  the  hardest  time  to  enjoy 
life  of  any  one  I  ever  knew.  Jane  is  so  indolent, 
and  as  far  as  I  can  see,  of  no  earthly  account  to 
any  one," 

While  at  the  table  eating  dinner  we  were 
startled  by  piercing  screams.  On  rushing  to  the 
door  we  beheld  Lulu,  running  as  fast  as  she  could 
toward  Ward's  house,  crying  and  calling  for  May 
to  the  extent  of  her  voice.  Ward  and  May  fairly 
flew  to  Jane's  house,  knowing  something  must  be 
the  matter,  and  truly  enough  there  little  Willie 
lay  in  hard  spasms.  We  did  all  we  could  for  the 
little  sufferer.  Ward  mounted  a  horse,  and  went 
at  full  speed  for  the  doctor,  but  ere  the  doctor  ar- 
rived, death  had  come  to  the  little  child's  relief. 

On  enquiring  of  Jane  the  cause  of  the  sudden 

change  in  Willie,  she  said  that  Rebecca  F , 

the  woman  May  had  so  much  trouble  with,  came 
over  and  brought  some  medicine  to  give  Willie. 

"  Did  you  give  it  to  him,"  said  I?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jane. 

"  How  much  did  you  give  him  ? '' 

"  Oh !    I  gave  him  a  spoonful." 

"  I  fear  you  gave  him  too  much." 

"  Well,  I  gave  it  to  him,  and  whether  too  much 
or  too  little,  it  was  given,  and  there  is  no  use  in 
crying  over  spilt  milk." 

"  But  I  fear  you  gave  him  too  much.  Did  not 
Rebecca  tell  you  how  much  to  give? " 


Suffering  Millions.  137 

"  I  don't  know  whether  she  did  or  not,"  said 
Jane. 

On  learning  about  the  medicine  we  found  out 
that  it  was  very  powerful,  and  should  only  be 
given  to  adults  in  drops:  "  I  am  very  sorry  that 
Rebecca  would  handle  medicine  so  carelessly," 
said  I. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Jane, "  you  think  me  not  capa- 
ble of  doctoring  my  own  children.  I  want  you  to 
understand  that  I  will  do  for  my  children  just  as  I 
please,  and  it's  nobody's  business." 

u  Yes,"  said  I,  "  but  you  must  be  careful  how 
you  give  medicine,  you  know  it  is  not  to  be  fooled 
with." 

"Well,"  said  Jane,  "it  is  nobody's  business 
what  I  give  or  what  I  do  for  my  children.  I  shall 
after  this  do  just  as  I  please.  I  was  bossed  around 
by  one  man,  and  I  do  not  intend  that  anybody 
else  shall  say  what  I  shall  or  shall  not  do. 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor,  who  had  arrived,  "  you 
had  better  not  give  your  children  any  more  of  that 
medicine,  or  any  other  medicine  unless  you  know 
better  how  to  handle  it  than  you  now  do." 

"  I  shall  do  just  as  I  please  about  my  children, 
and  people  may  say  or  think  just  what  they 
please,"  was  the  reply. 

The  doctor's  quick  wit,  plainly  saw  that  she 
was  both  willful  as  well  as  ignorant;  then  turning 
to  me  he  said, "  it  is  a  pity  for  such  women  as  she 
to  be  mothers  of  children.  I  often  see  cases  simi- 


138  Suffering  Millions. 

lar  to  this  where  people  are  raising  children,  who 
are  no  more  capable  of  suo.h  an  important  duty 
than  are  the  wild  Orang  outang.  Yet  it  is  hard  to 
tell  in  such  cases  what  it  is  best  to  do.  Is  not  this 
little  girl,  referring  to  Lulu,  a  lovely  child?" 

"  We  all  did  what  we  could  to  save  her  while  at 

Mr.  M 's,  but  it  now  looks  like  a  poor  chance 

for  the  child.  When  her  grandparents  were  alive 
she  was  well  taken  care  of,  but  now  things  are 
very  different." 

The  doctor  examined  the  body  of  little  Willie, 
but  he  knew  it  would  do  no  good  to  state  the 
exact  cause  of  his  death,  as  the  poor  little  fellow 
was  much  better  off  than  to  live  in  that  dismal 
home,  and  also  because  the  medicine  had  been 
given  through  carelessness,  instead  of  any  inten- 
tion on  the  part  of  its  mother  to  harm  the  child. 
Although  a  good  many  thought  that  it  was  the 
medicine  that  killed  the  child,  I  never  felt  satis- 
fied as  to  the  true  cause  of  its  death. 

After  the  funeral  Jane  made  up  her  mind  that 
she  would  take  Lulu  and  go  to  a  town  a  few  miles 
away,  and  live  with  a  sister  of  hers.  She  there- 
fore made  arrangements  to  go.  The  night  before 
she  started  she  and  Lulu  stayed  at  Ward's.  Of 
course  all  felt  bad  to  have  Lulu  go.  May  said  to 
me,  uoh!  how  can  I  stand  it  to  have  dear  little 
Lulu  go  ? " 

"  Well  May,"  said  I,  "  as  you  have  no  home  for 
her  it  may  be  best  for  her  to  go." 


Suffering  Millions.  339 

"  Oh  yes."  said  May.  But  I  could  see  that  it 
was  almost  killing  her  to  have  the  dear  little  girl 
go,  but  as  she  had  no  home  to  offer  the  child  she 
could  do  nothing  but  submit. 

During  the  evening,  Young  La  Marr  came  in  to 
spend  the  last  night  with  May  and  Lulu.  He 
was  very  much  attached  to  the  child,  and  as 
he  always  in  time  of  trouble  tried  to  befriend 
May,  he  now  knew  this  would  be  an  awful  trial  to 
May  to  see  little  Lulu  go  away.  But  May  tried  to 
make  the  best  of  it.  She  said,  u  dear  Lulu,  you 
will  be  a  good  little  girl,  for  you  have  always  been 
one.  It  may  be  best  for  you  to  go." 

"  Oh!  Aunt  May,"  said  Lulu,  "you  have  always 
been  so  good  to  me,  how  can  I  stand  it  without 
seeing  you?" 

"  Well,  Lulu,  it  is  not  very  far,  so  I  can  come 
to  see  you  sometimes." 

"  Oh !  do  come  Aunt  May,  it  will  be  so  lonesome 
without  you  or  Charlie.  Oh,  if  grandma  was  alive, 
then  I  could  stay  with  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  May,  "  but,  dear  Lulu,  things  are 
quite  different  since  mother  died." 

I  could  read  in  May's  looks  that  she  felt  very 
bad  to  have  Lulu  go,  so  I  thought  I  would  try  and 
persuade  Jane  to  be  very  careful  with  Lulu.  So  I 
said.  "  now  Jane,  you  will  be  good  to  Lulu,  as  she 
has  been  very  sick,  and  if  you  are  not  very  care- 
ful with  her  she  may  get  sick  again." 

"  I  shall  do,"  said  Jane,  "  as  I  please  with  my  chil- 


140  Suffering  Millions. 

dren.  I  will  give  them  just  what  I  please,  and 
Rebecca  will  back  me  for  she  told  me  so.  After 
this  I  am  going  to  show  people  that  I  shall  do  just 

as  I  please.  I  want  old  W ,  she  referred  to  the 

gentleman  who  had  taken  care  of  Lulu  through 
her  sickness,  to  understand  that  I  did  not  thank 
him  for  h.s  services.  I  suppose  people  think  me 
not  able  to  take  care  of  myself." 

I  well  understood  her,  so  I  said,  "  well  Jane,  I 
am  glad  you  feel  so  capable  of  doing  well  by  your- 
self. I  do  hop3  you  will  look  well  to  Lulu's  wel- 
fare. You  know  she  is  a  very  frail  child.  What 
do  you  intend  to  do  at  your  sisters  ?" 

"  I  shall  do  as  I  please  at  my  sisters.  She  al- 
ways tried  to  boss  me  but  she  will  now  find  out 
that  I  am  my  own  boss." 

I  saw  there  was  no  use  in  talking  to  her,  so  I 
said, "  Well  do,  for  mercy  sake,  be  careful  of  Lulu." 

Then  May  said  to  me,  "dear,  oh  dear!  I  cannot 
endure  it  to  have  Lulu  dragged  around  as  she  will 
be.  I  know  the  dear  little  girl  cannot  stand  it." 

"  Well  May,  you  will  have  to  endure  it.  You 
see  Jane  is  the  child's  mother,  and  as  long  as  she 
persists  in  keeping  her  she  can  do  so;  and  another 
thing,  you  have  no  home  to  take  the  child  to.  You 
know  that  your  brother  has  Charlie,  aheady,  also 
children  of  his  own,  besides  you  make  your  home 
with  him,  therefore  you  see  that  there  is  no  other 
way  to  do  but  for  Lulu  to  go." 

With  tears  streaming  from  her  eyes  May  took 


Suffering  Millions.  141 

the  little  girl  by  the  hand  and  said,  "  well,  Lulu 
dear,  I  guess  yon  had  better  go.  I  know  it  is  very 
hard  for  you,  Lulu,  yet  no  doubt  it  is  for  the  best." 

"  Oh  !  Aunt  May,  I  want  to  stay  with  you  and 
Charlie." 

We  all  went  to  see  them  take  the  cars.  The 
parting  of  Lulu  and  May  was  very  effecting,  but  I 
tried  to  cheer  May  up  as  we  were  returning. 

"  It  is  not  very  far  to  where  Jane  is  going,''  said 
I,  "and  you  can  go  and  see  Lulu  before  long,  can 
you  not?" 

"No  one  can  tell  what  she  will  do  with  Lulu," 
replied  May.  "  She  may  go  as  did  little  Willie,  or 
something  worse  may  happen  to  the  child.  No 
one  knows  the  trouble  our  folks  have  had  in  trying 
to  raise  those  children." 

"I  know  you  all  have  had  a  very  hard  time,  but 
you  know,  '  the  darkest  hour  is  just  before  day.'  " 

"Oh,  dear  me!  there  is  no  day  that  can  dawn 
upon  that  woman's  careless  ways." 

"It  does  seem  as  if  your  statement  is  almost 
true,  May,  for  I  do  believe  there  is  not  one  person 
on  earth  who  can  do  anything  with  Jane." 

The  first  we  heard  from  Jane  was  that  she  had 
sent  Lulu  to  live  with  a  brother  of  hers,  who  re- 
sided in  the  far  west,  hundred  of  miles  away.  May 
was  not  at  home  when  the  news  came,  I  therefore 
felt  anxious  to  know  how  dear  little  Lulu  stood  it 
to  be  taken  hundreds  of  miles  away  from  the  home 
of  her  childhood,  to  see  no  more  the  faces  of  the 


142  Suffering  Millions. 

friends  she  loved  so  much.  I  happened  to  meet  a 
person  who  was  on  the  train  on  which  Lulu  went 
away. 

"How  did  the  child  seem  to  stand  it  to  be  taken 
so  far  away  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  the  person,  "  it  was  just  awful.  When 
we  came  near  the  station  where  the  Montroville's 
live,  the  poor  little  girl  just  cried,  and  cried,  and 
begged  to  stop  and  see  Charlie  and  May  once  more. 
I  do  believe  every  person  on  the  train  felt  sorry 
for  the  child." 

"  How  did  her  mother  stand  it?" 

"Well,"  said  the  person,  "she  is  a  strange 
mother.  She  hardly  shed  one  tear.  She  told  the 
little  girl  to  never  mind,  that  she  would  be  better 
off  when  she  got  at  her  uncle's  house.  She  did  not 
seem  to  understand  that  it  was  very  hard  for  a 
little  child  to  be  sent  hundreds  of  miles  away,  per- 
haps never  more  to  see  her  friends." 

"  Lulu's  mother  did  not  send  her  all  that  distance 
alone,  did  she  ?" 

"  No,  she  sent  her  with  two  women  who  were 
going  west.  I  did  not  like  the  appearance  of  the 
women  at  all.  They  seemed  perfectly  brutal. 
They  told  the  child  there  was  no  use  of  crying,  and 
tried  to  make  the  little  girl  sit  up,  as  the  little  girl 
sat  with  her  head  in  her  lap,  weeping  as  if  her 
heart  would  break." 

"  Oh !  may  the  God  of  heaven  protect  the  dear 
little  girl!  How  many  just  such  helpless  little 


Suffering  Millions. 

orphan  children  there  are,  who  have  to  be  sent  to 
and  fro,  and  feel  the  world's  cold  frown." 

I  afterward  learned  by  another  person,  that 
Lulu's  uncle  met  her  at  the  depot  in  the  far  away 
western  city  to  which  she  was  sent.  He  was  a 
kind  gentleman  who  had  always  tried  to  make 
something  out  of  his  sister,  but  had  long  ago 
learned  that  it  was  of  no  use.  Therefore  he  wel- 
comed her  little  orphan  girl.  His  wife  was  a  noble, 
intelligent  lady,  who  received  Lulu  with  a  warm 
heart.  Yet  their  ways  were  different  from  those 
to  which  the  child  had  been  accustomed,  and 
though  she  tried  to  be  happy,  yet  her  little  heart 
was  very  sad.  Night  after  night,  for  weeks  and 
even  months,  her  little  pillow  was  wet  with  tears. 
Nevertheless  the  little  girl  was  much  better  off 
than  with  her  mother. 

We  now  leave  Lulu  in  the  west. 


144  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XV, 


When  May  learned  that  Lulu  had  been  sent  so 
far  away  she  shed  many  bitter  tears,  but  said,  "  I 
know  my  precious  little  Lulu  will  be  better  off, 
although  it  is  very  hard  to  think  of  her  hundreds 
of  miles  away.  I  know  her  uncle  is  a  gentleman, 
and  her  aunt  is  a  lady.  They  will  be  kind  to  her, 
yet  the  poor  little  girl  w^ill  be  very  lonely  without 
Charlie,  or  dear  little  Willie." 

"I  am  glad  you  look  so  wisely  upon  it,  May.  I 
was  afraid  it  would  almost  kill  you."  I  thought  I 
would  try  and  cheer  her  up  so  that  she  would  be 
more  reconciled  to  it,  so  I  said,  u  Lulu's  uncle  has 
a  little  baby  boy,  that  will  be  some  comfort  to 
her." 

"  Yes,"  said  May,  "  no  doubt  it  will,  but  it  is 
hard  for  a  little  child  to  be  so  far  away  from 
home." 

I  then  thought  I  would  try  and  make  a  good 
impression  on  her  mind.  "  Well,  May,"  said  I,  "  I 
know  you  have  seen  much  of  life's  sorrow,  but 
why  do  you  not  seek  comfort  from  the  fount  that 
all  true  comfort  comes  from,  where  you  can  drink 
and  thirst  no  more  ?  from  the  balm  that  can  heal 
all  of  earth's  sorrows  ?  You  oft  have  read  that 
precious  promise, '  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor, 


Suffering  Millions.  145 

and  are  heavy  laden  and  I  will  give  you  rest.' " 
But  to  this  I  could  get  no  reply.  Within  herself 
she  was  a  study.  She  seemed  to  have  no  feeling 
in  regard  to  religion.  I  have  very  often  thought 
had  May  listened  to  the  still  small  voice  of  her 
Savior  her  pathway  would  have  been  much  more 
free  from  the  thorny  way  she  had  to  tread.  Her 
nature  was  so  impulsive,  her  disposition  so  fiery, 
that  she  had  to  be  tried  in  the  furnace  to  take 
away  the  dross. 

After  the  death  of  her  friends  she  still  continued 
to  teach  school  in  the  neighborhood  where  her 
home  was.  But  she  was  so  lonely  that  she  made 
up  her  mind  that  she  would  change  her  employ- 
ment and  go  from  the  place  where  she  had  known 
so  much  of  sorrow  and  disappointment.  She 
therefore  went  to  a  town  some  miles  from  her 
home  and  began  the  business  of  dress-making. 
Here  she  formed  many  pleasant  acquaintances. 
Life  began  to  have  new  charms.  Her  heart  longed 
for  friends.  Possessing  as  she  did  so  warm  a  nature, 
she  could  not  bear  to  be  without  warm  friends. 
She  always  sought  if  possible  to  board  with  a 
widow  lady  that  she  might  have  some  one  to  share 
her  loneliness.  She  was  blessed  in  this  direction, 
as  several  times  she  boarded  with  noble,  widow 
ladies,  who  did  all  they  could  to  make  it  pleasant 
for  her.  I  will  mention  here  two  of  them,  both  of 
whom  were  lovely  Christian  ladies.  Their  homes 
were  very  pleasant  to  her.  She  loved  to  listen  to 
10 


146  Suffering  Millions. 

their  kind  Christian  advice.  She  attended  church 
with  them,  and  loved  the  society  of  Christians 
best,  as  she  early  had  been  taught  to  respect 
Christianity  and  had  early  learned  to  honor  the 
holy  sanctuary.  But  her  own  heart  was  so  cold 
she  was  as  one  living  in  a  world  without  a  God. 
She  had  no  faith  and  said  she  could  not  believe. 
She  was  so  in  the  dark,  she  could  not,  or  did  not 
try  to  exert  any  faith.  But  as  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  she  would  not  for  the  world  say  anything 
against  religion.  She  loved  its  quiet,  cultured  way. 
She  loved  the  sound  of  the  church  bell.  She 
loved  the  songs  they  sang.  She  loved  the  Sabbath 
school.  But  to  feel  the  love  of  Christ  in  her  soul 
she  did  not.  She  knew  her  own  heart  was  sad, 
but  she  did  not  understand  how  to  break  her 
stubborn  will. 

Not  long  after  Lulu  went  away  I  met  May  at  a 
friend's  house  where  she  was  visiting.  She  had 
just  received  several  letters,  and  among  the  rest 
was  one  written  in  a  strange  hand.  On  opening 
the  letter  we  found  it  was  from  dear  little  Lulu. 
The  little  girl  was  too  young,  or  at  least  had  not 
yet  learned  to  write,  so  she  had  printed  as  best  she 
could  a  letter  to  May,  as  follows : 

DEAR  AUNT  MAY.  I  AM  WELL  I  HOPE  YOU  ARE  THE 
SAME  I  SAW  THE  GREAT  MISSIPPI  RIVER  AND  MANY 
OTHER  NICE  SIGHTS  AS  I  CAME  WEST.  I  WISH  YOU  COULD 
BE  WITH  ME.  MY  UNCLE  AND  AUNT  ARE  GOOD  TO  ME 
WELL  I  MUST  CLOSE  GOOD,  BY  LULU. 


Suffering  Millions.  147 

We  all  wept  over  this  little  letter.  The  dear 
little  girl  was  very  careful  not  to  say  anything 
that  would  make  May  feel  worse  about  being  so 
far  from  home.  She  well  knew  that  May  could 
hardly  stand  it  to  have  her  so  far  from  home. 

"  Well,"  said  May,  "  I  am  so  glad  that  Lulu  is 
allowed  to  write  to  me,  for  although  the  poor  little 
child  cannot  write  yet,  those  little  printed  letters 
are  worth  more  than  gold  to  me." 

"Lulu,"  said  I,  "is  a  bright  little  girl.  She 
makes  sunshine  wherever  she  is." 

"  Oh !  yes,"  said  May,  "  if  we  who  love  her  so 
well  could  only  have  her.  Why  are  things  so 
strangely  arranged  ?" 

"  Well,  May,  I  cannot  tell.  Yet  all  things  are 
right  for  those  who  serve  God." 

"  I  cannot  understand  why  we  should  have  so 
much  sorrow.  Death  is  hard  to  be  reconciled  to, 
but  there  are  things  that  are  worse  than  death.  I 
have  stood  by  the  bedside  and  seen  my  mother, 
father  and  brother  die,  but  it  was  not  half  so  hard 
as  it  is  to  see  William's  dear  little  children  taken 
hundreds  of  miles  away  from  home.  I  know  dear 
little  Lulu  cries  herself  almost  to  death.  I  expect 
her  uncle  and  aunt  are  good  to  her,  but  just  think 
of  the  dear  little  girl,  seeing  no  more  the  scenes  of 
her  childhood ;  no  more  to  join  with  her  little 
brother  in  play,  or  to  look  upon  the  familiar  things 
that  she  loved  so  much.  Oh,  why  do  we  have  to 
give  the  darling  child  up  ?" 


148  Suffering  Millions. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  May,  but  just  put  your  trust 
in  God,  and  all  things  will  work  together  for 
good." 

"  That  might  be  well  enough  for  good  people  to 
do,  but  I  am  not  good  enough.  It  just  makes  me 
mad  to  think  Lulu  has  to  be  so  far  from  home." 

"  You  are  not  as  bad  as  you  think  you  are,  May. 
I  know  you  are  hot-headed,  and  very  impulsive, 
but  you  are  no  worse  than  lots  of  other  people. 
There  was  the  Apostle  Paul,  a  fiery  young  man 
going  down  to  Damascus,  breathing  out  threaten- 
ings  and  slaughter  against  the  disciples  of  God. 
His  heart  was  hot  within  him ;  it  burned  with 
rancour  and  cruelty ;  his  breath  was  flame.  The 
volcano  of  his  breast  heaved  and  swelled,  and 
poured  its  streams  of  fire  on  every  side.  When 
lo  !  a  light  of  overwhelming  brightness  burst  upon 
his  astonished  vision.  Awe-stricken  and  amazed 
he  fell  to  the  ground.  While  prostrate  in  the  dust 
he  heard  a  voice  saying  unto  him, '  Saul,  Saul,  why 
persecutest  thou  me  ?'  In  the  midst  of  his  amaze- 
ment he  cried  out,  '  Who  art  thou,  Lord  ?'  The 
answer  was, '  I  am  Jesus  whom  thou  persecutest.' 
Looking  up  and  beholding  the  glorious  personage, 
his  heart  yielded ;  the  adamant  broke,  and  humbled 
he  cried  out,  'Lord,  what  will  thou  have  me  to 
do?'" 

Now  the  great  apostle  saw  for  himself  that  he 
was  a  poor  sinner  before  God.  As  soon  as  it  was 
told  him  what  to  do  he  went  to  work.  Now,  May, 


Suffering  Millions.  149 

if  you  only  will  break  that  stubborn  will  of  yours, 
and  as  Paul  of  old,  cry  out, '  Lord,  what  wilt  thou 
have  me  to  do  I '  then  your  pathway  will  be  more 
bright." 

"No  doubt  it  would,  but  for  some  cause  un- 
known to  me,  I  have  no  feeling  in  that  direction." 

"  Strange,  strange,  indeed,  it  is  May,  for  one  who 
so  needs  the  blessed  Savior's  aid  to  treat  the  sub- 
ject so  indifferently." 

"  I  know  it  is,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  sometimes 
longed  for  that  blessed  joy  that  Christians  tell  of 
to  shine  into  my  poor  misunderstanding  heart. 
But  in  just  one  moment  all  is  dark.  I  must  be 
worse  than  any  one  else  who  ever  lived,  for  almost 
every  one,  both  saint  and  sinner,  seems  to  grasp 
the  idea  of  a  bright,  beautiful  world  beyond,  where 
we  can  meet  and  clasp  the  hand  of  those  we  have 
loved  so  well,  and  dwell  in  peace  and  happiness 
forever.  Oh,  my  heart  hopes  that  it  may  be  so. 
Have  I  not  ties  that  bind  me  to  such  a  hope  as 
this  ?  But  then  all  with  me  is  dark.  Some  way,  I 
cannot  understand.  You  may  think  me  jesting, 
but  I  am  not.  Oh !  how  sorry  I  am  that  this  is  so." 

"  Well  May,  I  will  not  give  you  up.  I  know  in 
some  way  all  will  be  well." 

"  You  may  not  believe  me,"  said  May, l'  but  I 
am  honest.  Oh,  yes,  I  love  the  truth,  the  blessed 
truth.  My  soul  fairly  thirsts  for  it." 

"  Yes,  May,  I  do  believe  you.    One  thing  I  have 


150  Suffering  Millions. 

always  noticed  in  you  is  truthfulness.  But  I  am 
puzzled  to  know  why  this  should  be  so." 

"  My  soul,"  said  May,  "  longs  for  rest,  for  peace, 
and  happiness,  but  I  cannot  find  them.  Some- 
times there  is  a  wave  of  pleasantness  that  sweeps 
across  my  troubled  mind,  and  then  again  all  is 
dark." 

"  Pray,  dear  May,  pray  that  God  will  bring  you 
into  the  light.  The  Savior  invites,  heaven  says 
come,  friends  beckon  you,  oh,  why  do  you  not  see 
the  joyful  light?" 

"Forgive  me,  my  dearest  friend,  but  I  cannot 
see  the  light.  Glad  indeed  would  I  be  if  I  could 
tell  you  that  I  could.  What  little  I  have,  all  I 
could  do,  I  would  gladly  give  to  have  it  so.  You 
say  to  pray,  this  I  have  done.  I  have  wrestled  like 
Jacob  of  old,  but  unlike  him,  I  did  not  prevail." 

"  Well,  May,  God  only  knows  why  this  should  be 
so.  Yet  all  his  ways  are  right.  Trust  him,  only 
trust  him.  Even  if  thy  soul  is  overwhelmed  with 
darkness;  light  will  surely  dawn." 

"  My  heart  goes  out  for  my  dear  brother's  chil- 
dren. I  long  to  fold  the  little  darlings  in  my  arms 
and  shield -them  from  all  of  earth's  care.  But  here 
I  am  as  one  petrified.  What  can  I  do?  No  home; 
not  even  for  myself,  and  with  but  little  of  this 
earth's  means.  Oh !  it  is  hard  to  be  poor.  If  I 
had  wealth  at  my  command,  then  I  could  do 
something;  but  here  I  am.  I  can  suffer,  and  that 
is  all.  When  I  think  of  the  days  that  are  passed, 


Suffering  Millions.  151 

childhood's  happy  days,  when  our  family  gathered 
around  the  fireside  and  watched  with  anxious  joy 
to  see  Lulu  take  her  first  steps,  I  can  see  the 
little  curly-headed  girl  with  those  laughing,  spark- 
ling eyes,  and  then,  oh,  then,  all  is  blank." 

"  I,  too,  Ma3r,  can  remember  those  little  baby 
eyes  of  Lulu's  which  would  follow  you  wherever 
you  moved.  Sometimes  her  little  lip  would  trem* 
ble  as  if  her  heart  was  full  of  fear," 

Letters  came  and  went  from  Lulu  to  May.  Al- 
though separated  with  so  many  miles  between 
them,  yet  the  love  for  each  other  burned  in  each 
breast. 

May  now  constantly  met  with  changes  as  did 
also  Lulu.  The  change  with  both  from  the  coun- 
try's sweet  balmy  air  to  the  proud  ways  of  city 
life,  wrought  changes  in  both.  Lulu's  uncle  kindly 
sent  her  to  school,  and  her  aunt  spared  no  pains  in 
trying  to  educate  her  in  the  ways  of  city  life,  that 
she  might  grow  up  to  be  an  ornament  in  the  home 
where  she  dwelt.  But  although  they  were  kind, 
the  child  constantly  sighed  for  her  far  away  east- 
ern home.  Her  aunt  once  said  to  me,  "  we  loved 
Lulu,  and  tried  to  make  things  pleasant  for  her, 
but  all  we  could  do  she  would  not  call  our  house 
home.  I  could  not  blame  the  child,"  said  her  aunt. 
"  I  could  only  compare  her  feelings  to  the  poor 
Indian  who  was  taken  by  the  white  people,  and 
although  they  were  kind  to  him,  yet  his  language 
was: 


152  Suffering  Millions  - 

"Take  me  back  to  rny  home  in  the  far  distant  west, 
To  the  scenes  of  my  childhood,  I  love  far  the  best, 
Where  the  tall  cedars  are,  and  the  bright  waters  flow, 
To  the  scenes  of  my  childhood,  white  man  let  me  go." 

"  Well,"  said  I  to  her  aunt,  "  I  know  you  were 
good  and  kind  to  Lulu,  but  the  impressions  that 
are  made  on  the  mind  of  a  child  are  as  lasting  as 
is  our  mind.  An  eminent  man  once  said,  '  give 
me  the  first  eight  years  of  a  child's  life  to  make 
impressions  on,  and  you  may  have  all  the  rest.' 
This  plainly  shows  how  important  are  the  early 
teachings  of  a  child." 

May  God  in  his  infinite  mercy  protect  the  child 
of  a  vain  or  indolent  parent.  1  know  a  son,  a 
bright  and  noble  young  man  with  an  intellect  un- 
surpassed by  any  one  whom  I  ever  knew,  who  was 
by  a  proud,  vain,  and  ambitious  mother,  educated 
as  a  violinist,  which  education  was  commenced 
even  before  the  boy  was  old  enough  to  know  good 
from  evil.  She  loves  to  see  him  flattered  in  the 
giddy  ballroom.  She  wants  him  to  appear  as  an 
accomplished  musician,  and  although  to-day  he 
stands  as  one  of  the  finest  violinists  in  the  state, 
yet  it  placed  him  in  the  way  of  temptation  that  he 
was  not  able  to  resist.  Now  he  sees  his  condition ; 
he,  so  bright,  so  noble,  so  good,  and  knows  full 
well  that  he  is  on  the  downward  road.  When  he 
was  fully  awakened  to  his  condition,  he  said  "oh 
mother,  dear  mother,  you  have  made  an  idol  of 
me.  I  am  going  down  to  ruin.  I  cannot  resist  the 


Suffering  Millions.  153 

temptations  I  am  thrown  into.  You  longed  to  see 
me  accomplished,  but  I  am  ruined,  I  am  ruined  ! 
Oh,  mother,  dear  mother,  pray  for  me ;  your  boy ; 
your  first  born."  With  wringing  hands  and  bleed- 
ing heart,  and  tears  that  must  forever  flow,  his 
mother  exclaimed :  "  Oh,  my  boy,  my  precious 
darling  boy !  I  cannot  give  you  up.  I  have 
longed  to  see  your  name  written  with  those  of 
noble  men.  My  bright,  my  noble  boy !  And  has 
it  come  to  this  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  am  to  blame.  Before 
your  little  prattling  tongue  could  utter  yes,  I  said 
it  must  be  so.  Oh  my  boy,  my  darling,  thou  art 
all  the  world  to  me." 

Now  who,  I  would  ask,  shall  answer  for  his  sin  ? 
the  boy  or  the  parent?  I  fear  you  will  have  to 
answer  "  both." 

No  wonder  dear  little  Lulu  could  not  forget  her 
childhood's  home.  Although  not  as  grand  as  her 
uncle's  fine  residence,  yet  it  was  where  she  first 
beheld  the  light  of  day;  where  she  had  joined  in 
the  merry  sports  of  childhood's  happy  hours; 
where  she  had,  together  with  her  little  brother, 
gathered  the  wild  flowers  that  bloomed  near  by, 
Where  she  had  wandered  among  the  tall  grasses 
that  grew  in  the  meadow  between  her  father's  and 
grandpa's  house.  There  were  many  things  in  the 
city  that  she  loved,  but  her  childhood  home  she 
loved  the  best.  She  oft  longed  for  the  pure,  sweet 
air,  and  the  fragrant  odor  of  country  life,  and  to 
play  with  her  brother  and  little  mates. 


154  Suffering  Millions. 

Her  uncle  and  aunt  observed  her  earnest  long- 
ing to  get  back  to  her  home  and  friends,  and  as 
one  year  had  rolled  away,  and  still  she  seemed  dis- 
contented, they  thought  it  best  to  send  her  home 
again.  At  first  it  seemed  to  dazzel  her  imagina- 
tion to  think  of  again  seeing  her  friends  once 
more. 

"  Well,"  said  her  uncle  to  his  wife,  "  I  think  we 
had  better  write  to  May,  and  learn  what  she  thinks 
about  it.  You  know  she  is  more  capable  of  taking 
care  of  the  child  than  Jane  is."  And  then  he 
added,  "  oh  dear  me !  what  will  ever  become  of 
Jane  ?  She  is  more  of  a  care  than  the  children 
are." 

"  Yes,"  said  his  wife,  "  May  will  do  all  she  can 
for  Lulu.  I  do  wish  May  was  mxiried,  then  Lulu 
would  have  a  good  home." 

"  Yes,  but  then  her  husband  might  not  be  willing 
to  have  her,"  said  he. 

''  Don't  fear  about  that.  May  would  have  that 
in  the  bargain." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  return  home  Lulu  and  see  your 
Aunt  May  and  Charlie  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear  uncle  and  aunt,  you  have  been 
very  kind  to  me,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  I  long  to 
go  home  and  see  dear  Aunt  May,  mamma,  little 
brother  Charlie  and  all  of  the  rest.  It  seems  like 
a  dream,  but  I  hope  it  may  be  so.  Arrangements 
were  made  and  Lulu  started  at  once  back  home. 
Her  uncle  wrote  May  to  meet  her  at  the  train. 


«* 

Suffering  Millions.  155 

May  could  scarcely  wait  until  the  day  arrived  for 
Lulu  to  get  home.  At  last  the  day  came.  Ward 
and  May  were  at  the  train,  but  no  Lulu  came. 
The  next  day  they  again  went  to  the  station  and 
still  no  Lulu  came.  May  now  became  excited,  and 
with  lightning  speed  she  sent  a  dispatch :  "  Lulu 
is  not  here.  Did  she  start  ?  If  so  something  must 
have  happened."  Her  uncle  received  the  dispatch, 
and  although  much  exited,  yet  dared  not  reply  by 
telegraph,  as  he  had  sent  the  child,  and  he  knew 
May  would  be  almost  frantic.  He  said  to  his  wife, 
"  it  is  very  strange,  but  surely  nothing  serious  has 
happened  or  we  would  have  heard  of  it  by  this  time . 
Perhaps  the  train  by  some  carelessness  had  to  lay 
over  one  or  two  days." 

One  evening  shortly  after  this,  as  we  were  sit- 
ting around  the  comfortable  fireside  at  Ward's 
house,  there  was  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door.  Ward 
joyfully  exclaimed:  "Oh!  if  here  is  not  Lulu." 
The  darling  little  girl  fairly  danced  into  the  house, 
so  glad  was  she  to  get  back  home.  Charlie  and 
Ward's  children  clapped  their  hands  and  shouted  : 
u  Oh,  Lulu  has  got  home!  Lulu's  got  home!"  All 
was  joy  and  excitement.  May  folded  the  little 
girl  in  her  arms  and  pressed  her  to  her  heart.  We 
now  inquired  of  the  child  why  she  had  been  so 
long  in  coming.  She  said  there  had  been  some 
mistake  in  her  taking  the  right  train,  which  caused 
her  to  have  to  lay  over  two  days  on  her  trip  home. 
I  could  plainly  see  by  May's  looks,  although 


156  Suffering  Millions. 

greatly  pleased  at  Lulu's  return  home,  that  some- 
thing troubled  her  very  much. 

When  May  and  I  were  alone,  I  said  to  her, 
"  you  are  very  glad  to  see  Lulu  are  you  not  ? " 

"Of  course  I  am,"  said  May,  but  I  am  very 
much  bothered  to  know  just  where  she  is  going  to 
have  a  home.  You  know  Ward  has  all  the  family 
that  he  should  have." 

"  Yes,  May,  that  is  so.  Lulu  ought  to  have  a 
home,  where  she  could  be  well  educated.  You 
know  she  is  a  frail  child  and  could  not  stand  many 
hardships."  The  thought  then  came  to  me,  that  if 
May  would  get  married,  she  could  give  Lulu  a 
home  that  would  free  her  from  the  world's  cold 
frown.  So  I  said,  "May,  why  don't  you  get  mar- 
ried ?  then  you  could  give  Lulu  a  home." 

"  La !  me !  Me  get  married !  Who  would  I 
marry  ? " 

"  Now  May,  there  is  young  LaMarr.  Why  don't 
you  marry  him  ?  " 

"What  are  you  talking  about?  He  would  not 
have  me.  He  is  mad  at  me,"  said  May. 

"No  wonder  he  is  mad  at  you.  You  act  in  a 
way  to  make  him  mad  at  you.  Has  he  not  stood 
by  you  in  the  hour  of  trouble  ?  At  the  death  of 
your  mother,  father  and  brother,  also  at  the  part- 
ing with  little  Lulu,  who  was  so  ready  to  sym- 
pathize with  you  as  he?  And  I  have  always 
noticed  if  you  wished  to  go  any  place  he  will 
either  take  you  himself  or  provide  a  way  for  you 
to  go.  Is  that  not  so?" 


Suffering  Millions.  157 

"  He  has  been  good,"  said  May,  "  but  then 

"  But  what  ?  "  said  I.  Ho  is  a  good  fellow,  and 
would  be  good  to  Lulu.  You  would  be  much 
happier  if  you  could  have  Lulu  with  you.  May, 
the  trouble  with  you  is  your  hot-headed  disposi- 
tion." 

"  You  are  always  scolding  me  about  my  disposi- 
tion. I  have  just  the  disposition  God  gave  me,  (if 
there  is  a  God,  as  you  seem  to  think.") 

"  Well,  May,  I  only  talk  to  you  for  your  own 
good.  Would  you  not  like  to  have  a  home  of  your 
own,  so  you  could  keep  Lulu  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  would  like  very  much  to  have  Lulu  always 
with  me.  She  is  the  precious  gem  that  binds  me 
to  earth." 

The  next  day  after  Lulu  arrived  home,  Ward 
and  May  took  her  to  see  her  mother,  and  as  I  was 
visiting  Ward's  folks,  I  thought  I  would  go  along. 

Her  mother  seemed  somewhat  pleased  at  Lulu's 
return,  but  said,  "  1  have  made  arrangements  with 
friends  of  mine  to  take  Lulu  to  keep  as  their  own 
child.  They  are  coming  here  to-day  to  make 
arrangements  about  taking  her." 

At  this  a  sad  look  swept  over  Lulu's  face,  and 
she  could  hardly  speak.  In  a  short  time  a  buggy 
drove  up  and  an  old  gentleman  and  lady  got  out. 
•l  Oh  !  there  they  are,"  said  Jane.  "  Now  Lulu  you 
must  act  nice,  for  it  will  be  a  good  place  for  you. 
I  hope  you  will  please  them." 

When  they  came  into  the  house,  Jane  said,  "  I 


158  Suffering  Millions. 

am  glad  you  came  to-day,  as  Lulu  is  here,  and  can 
go  right  home  with  you."  At  this  tears  began  to 
stream  from  poor  little  Lulu's  eyes.  The  thought 
of  again  being  sent  from  home  was  more  than  the 
poor  child  could  stand. 

"  How  you  act ! "  said  her  mother.  "You  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself.  Don't  you  know  it  will 
be  better  for  you  to  go  ? " 

"  I  think,"  said  the  lady,  "  this  child  is  rather 
small.  I  want  a  girl  that  can  do  my  kitchen 
work,  washing,  ironing,  and  the  like.  I  aint  one 
of  'em  that  believes  all  a  young  un  is  for  is  to  be 
sent  to  skool.  I  larnt  to  work  and  that  is  what  I 
want  a  young  un  for." 

I  now  took  notice  of  the  old  folks.  They  were 
very  queer  looking  people.  They  talked  very 
old-fashioned,  and  plainly  showed  that  they  had 
never  learned  to  do  anything  but  hard  work.  No 
wonder  that  poor  Lulu  did  not  want  to  go  with 
such  looking  people. 

"Mow,  Lulu,"  said  her  mother,  "  I  want  you  to 
go  like  a  lady." 

Poor  Lulu  could  not  speak.  She  looked  at  May 
through  her  tears. 

"  I  think,"  said  May,  "  you  ought  to  be  willing 
for  Lulu  to  make  a  visit  first.  You  know  she  has 
been  away  from  home  a  long  time." 

"  I  think,"  said  her  mother, "  she  had  better  go." 

At  this,  the  gentleman,  at  whose  house  we  were, 
spoke  up  and  said :  "  I  think  it  is  a  shame  to  send 


Suffering  Millions.  159 

the  child  away  again  so  soon  without  having  had 
time  to  make  a  visit." 

I  was  very  glad  he  said  this,  because  he  was  a 
gentleman,  and  felt  sorry  for  Lulu. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  lady,  "I  do  not  think  the 
child  will  suit  me  anyway.  She  is  too  small  and 
looks  to  me  like  one  of  the  kind  that  is  more  fitted 
for  the  pianar  than  the  kitchen." 

The  old  man  said  to  his  wife,  "  I  like  the  looks 
of  the  little  girl.  I  would  like  to  have  her  live 
with  us." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  expect  you  would  like  to  have  her 
sitting  around  making  a  lady  of  herself.  But  I 
want  you  to  understand  I  want  a  girl  for  the 
kitchen." 

Lulu's  mother  seemed  very  much  disappointed. 
Poor  Lulu  came  and  stood  near  May,  as  if  she  was 
afraid  of  being  taken  away  again.  After  they 
were  gone  Lulu  said,  "I  am  so  glad  they  have 
gone.  I  was  afraid  of  them."  I  did  not  wonder 
at  her  being  afraid  of  them.  I  noticed  a  flash  of 
May's  dark  eyes  as  she  pressed  Lulu  near  her 
heart,  and  I  said  to  myself,  May  has  some  idea  in 
her  head.  1  afterwards  found  out  that  idea. 

We  cut  our  visit  rather  short.  I  said,  "  is  Jane 
not  a  queer  mother  to  be  so  anxious  to  send  her 
child  away  again  so  soon  ?  I  have  always  looked 
upon  a  mother's  love  as  the  purest  type  of  love, 
but  I  am  learning  that  this  is  a  strange  world,  or 
at  least  that  there  are  strange  people  in  it.  Poor 


160  Suffering  Millions. 

little  Lulu  seemed  glad  to  get  away.  The  child 
fairly  clung  to  May  as  if  she  was  afraid  some  un- 
seen hand  would  snatch  her  from  her  friends.  I 
felt  sorry  for  the  poor  little  girl  for  just  then  I 
could  see  no  prospect  for  a  good  home  for  her. 
After  we  had  returned  to  Ward's,  we  all  discussed 
the  question  of  a  home  for  the  child.  After  we  had 
retired  to  bed  May  held  Lulu  in  her  arms  while 
hot  tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks.  "  Lulu  now 
is  nearer  and  dearer  to  me  then  ever  before," 
said  May,  •'  since  her  own  mother  seems  to  care 
nothing  for  the  dear,  precious  child." 


Suffering  Millions.  161 


CHAPTER  XVI, 


The  next  time  I  met  May  she  handed  me  a 
paper,  which  upon  reading  I  discovered  to  be  a 
marriage  certificate. 

"  Why  May,  you  surprise  me !  So  you  married 
at  last.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad!  Now  you  can  give 
Lulu  a  home/' 

"  Yes,"  said  May,  '*  I  think  Lulu  and  I  have  been 
without  a  home  long  enough." 

Just  then  a  friend  of  mine  came  up  and  began 
to  talk  with  me,  so  May  left  us  and  passed  up  the 
street. 

"  I  am  perfectly  surprised,"  said  I,  "  did  you 
know  that  May  was  married  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  my  friend,  "  I  just  heard  of  it.  I 
have  always  said  that  May  would  marry  young 
La  Marr." 

"  I  have  laughed  considerably  at  them,"  said  I, 
"  they  are  both  so  queer.  Half  of  the  time  they 
would  not  speak  to  each  other,  and  still  in  case  of 
trouble  La  Marr  would  do  anything  he  possibly 
could  for  May.  You  know  May  is  one  of  those 
impulsive  girls  that  must  have  her  own  way." 

"  Yes,"  said  my  friend, "  I  know  she  is,  yet  May 
has  a  good  heart,  after  all." 

"I  always  thought,"  said  I,  "that  May  enjoyed 
ii 


162  Suffering  Millions. 

La  Man's  foreign  accent,  and  liked  his  quick  and 
active  way.  You  know,  I  suppose,  that  he  is  of 
French  descent,  did  you  not  ?" 

"  I  think  I  did  know  of  it,'1  said  my  friend. 

The  next  day  after  they  were  married  La  Marr 
took  May  to  his  home.  He  had  not  wealth,  yet  he 
had  a  comfortable  home.  One  thing  I  will  say  for 
May  was,  she  did  look  well  to  the  ways  of  her 
household.  The  love  of  long  ago  now  filled  her 
heart.  May  and  her  husband  gladly  welcomed 
Lulu  to  their  home.  The  little  girl  who  had  not 
known  the  comfort  of  having  a  home  with  those 
she  loved  most,  now  felt  perfectly  free  to  act  and 
do  as  she  wished.  Sad  indeed  it  is  to  feel  the 
loneliness  of  having  no  true  home.  This  is  bad  in 
middle  life  but  much  worse  in  childhood.  Lulu 
played  and  romped  with  those  she  loved,  and  made 
warm  friends  with  kitties,  pigs,  chickens,  and 
everything  that  roamed  about  the  place. 

With  May  and  her  husband,  as  with  Mildred  and 
her  husband  in  J.  G.  Holland's  "  Mistress  for  the 
Manse,"  there  was  a  difference.  A  difference  that 
no  doubt  they  both  felt  as  long  as  life  lasted.  But 
nevertheless,  their  home  to  me  was  one  of  the 
loveliest  homes  I  ever  knew.  At  my  first  oppor- 
tunity I  called  and  found  them  very  comfortably 
situated.  The  house  was  one  of  those  old-fashioned 
one  story  frame  houses,  painted  red  on  the  outside, 
trimmed  in  white.  The  inside  was  painted  blue. 
It  was  one  of  those  dear  old  houses,  substantially 


Suffering  Millions.  163 

built,  and  rather  fine  for  its  day,  that  will  live  in 
my  memory  after  they  have  all  crumbled  into  de- 
cay. I  learned  from  some  of  the  old  settlers  that 
the  house  had  been  built  over  forty  years,  yet  it 
still  retained  quite  a  respectable  appearance.  I 
found  May  busy  at  work  and  little  Lulu  at  play.  I 
read  in  May's  dark  eyes  the  happiness  that  filled 
her  breast.  The  house  was  neat  and  tidy,  -every- 
thing appeared  nice.  It  was  the  most  pleasant 
time  in  May. 

"•  Well  May,"  said  I,  "  it  seems  good  to  see  you 
so  pleasantly  situated  in  a  house  of  your  own." 

"  Yes."  said  May,  "  I  am  very  happy,  because  I 
now  can  have  Lulu  with  me.  I  have  longed  to 
have  the  little  girl,  so  I  could  see  about  her  educa- 
tion, and  I  am  very  anxious  that  Lulu  should  be 
well  educated." 

"•  Yes,"  said  I,"  and  you  live  near  a  school  house 
I  notice.  You  have  a  very  pretty  home,  it  is  so 
pleasantly  situated  on  such  a  sightly  elevation ; 
just  my  ideal  of  a  country  home." 

"  We  do  not  possess  wealth,"  said  May,  "  but 
what  is  better  still,  we  do  enjoy  health,  and  now  I 
can  take  care  of  dear  little  Lulu." 

"  Is  your  husband  willing  to  keep  Lulu  ?" 

u  Oh,  yes,"  said  May,  "  he  thinks  as  much  of 
Lulu  as  do  I,  and  he  is  very  kind  to  us  both." 

"  Let  us  go  out  and  look  around  the  yard,"  said  I. 

As  we  passed  out  the  door  I  noticed  that  it  was 
only  about  a  hundred  or  a  hundred  and  fifty  rods 


164  Suffering  Millions. 

to  Ward's  residence,  the  home  of  May's  girlhood. 
Their  houses  stood  facing  each  other. 

"  It  makes  it  very  nice,"  said  I,  "  for  you  and 
Ward  to  live  so  near  each  other,  as  you  are  the 
only  two  of  your  father's  family  left." 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  is.  I  can  now  run  over  there 
as  often  as  I  please.  It  also  makes  it  very  nice 
for  Lulu,  as  she  now  can  see  her  little  brother 
Charlie  as  often  as  she  likes." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  I, "  your  brother  Ward  has  Lulu's 
little  brother  Charlie.  That  is  rather  strange ;  just 
one  girl  and  one  boy  left  in  each  of  your  father's 
and  William's  families,  you  have  the  girl,  he  the 
boy." 

"Yes,"  said  May,  "William  gave  Ward  little 
Charlie  just  a  short  time  before  he  died." 

Then  we  walked  up  and  down  in  the  garden. 
There  were  currant  bushes,  grape  vines,  fruit  trees 
in  bloom,  flowers  adorned  the  walks,  and  sweet 
odors  permeated  the  air.  The  melody  of  the  wild 
songster  came  floating  in  silver  tones  on  the  per- 
fumed breeze.  It  seemed  a  hallowed  spot. 

"  Well  May,"  said  I,  "  how  happy  you  should  be 
for  all  the  blessings  God  has  given  you." 

"  I  am  happy,  indeed,  in  my  new  home,  for  be  it 
ever  so  humble,  there  is  no  place  like  home." 

Turning  to  Lulu  I  said,  "  Well,  little  girl,  I. sup- 
pose you  like  to  live  with  your  Aunt  May  ?" 

Lulu  had  been  playing  and  running  up  and 
down  the  walks,  her  curls  thrown  back,  her  cheeks 


Suffering  Millions.  165 

aglow,  and  those  large,  expressive  eyes,  that  I  fail 
to  describe,  sparkling  with  delight.  "  Yes,  I  guess 
I  do,"  came  the  answer,  "  I  now  am  going  to  live 
always  with  Aunt  May.  She  says  I  can." 

"  Had  you  not  rather  go  and  live  with  me  ?" 

u  Oh,  I  want  to  live  with  Aunt  May."  Then  the 
child  went  on  to  tell  a  lot  about  her  pet  dog,  her 
kittie,  and  a  little  black-eyed  pig,  which  as  she 
expressed  it,  was  just  as  fat  as  it  could  be.  Then 
nothing  would  do  but  I  must  go  with  her  to  see 
the  chickens,  which  she  seemed  to  think  were  very 
fine  pets.  The  horses  also  were  favorites  with 
Lulu,  and  in  fact  every  animal  on  the  place 
seemed  to  know  and  love  the  little  girl. 

"  Had  you  not  rather  live  with  your  mother  ?" 
said  I. 

"  Oh,  poor  mamma  is  so  queer,  and  Aunt  May  and 
grandma  have  always  cared  for  me.  Willie  was 
mamma's  baby,  and  I  was  grandma's,  but  now  I  am 
Aunt  May's.  Is  that  wrong?" 

Shortly  after  May  was  married  she  commenced 
sending  Lulu  to  school.  It  always  did  me  good  to 
see  the  little  girl  on  her  way  to  school.  She  was 
so  earnest,  so  active,  so  bent  on  learning.  Some- 
times she  would  stop  and  watch  the  little  birds 
flit  among  the  trees  and  nothing  hurt  her  more 
than  to  have  the  boys  injure  the  little  birds.  I 
saw  her  one  day  with  a  poor  little  wounded  bird. 
She  tried  to  put  some  water  and  crumbs  into  its 
little  mouth,  but  the  little  bird  was  too  far  gone  to 


166  Suffering  Millions. 

either  eat  or  drink.  Then  with  tear-stained  cheeks 
she  carefully  gave  it  to  a  friend  that  he  might 
cease  its  pain.  Lulu  made  rapid  progress  in  her 
studies.  Her  teachers  loved  her  because  she  was 
always  obedient.  There  never  was  a  more  cheer- 
ful, contented  little  girl  than  Lulu.  She  went  to 
school  every  day,  and  May  was  very  careful  not  to 
keep  her  out,  for,  said  she, "  it  is  of  no  use  to  keep 
a  child  out  of  school  one  day  and  send  it  the  next. 
I  want  Lulu  to  have  a  good  education,  and  if  we 
do  not  begin  while  she  is  young,  there  will  be  no 
use.  I  also  want  her  to  have  a  musical  education, 
for  I  believe  she  has  a  fine  talent  in  that  direction, 
and  she  is  a  good  singer." 

u  Yes,  I  know  she  is.  Are  you  going  to  teach 
her  to  work  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  shall,  when  she  is  old  enough,  but 
Lulu  is  smart  and  it  will  not  take  her  forever  to 
learn  to  work." 

"  May,  I  believe  you  work  too  hard." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  not.  I  would  love  to  see  things 
glitter." 

May,  as  she  ever  had  been,  was  still  nervous, 
impatient  and  active,  but  she  at  any  time  would 
gladly  deny  herself  for  Lulu.  Nothing  gave  her 
such  joy  as  for  Lulu  to  be  successful  in  her  studies. 
Lulu  now  had  attended  school  one  or  two  terms 
since  May  was  married.  The  little  girl  began  to  for- 
get the  lonely  days  that  she  had  spent  so  far  from 
home  and  friends.  She  now  looked  upon  her  Aunt 
May's  home  as  her  true  home.  She  now  felt  free 
from  the  chilly  thought  of  ever  leaving  May. 


Suffering  Millions.  167 


CHAPTER  XVII, 


To  return  to  Jane.  She  remained  the  same 
careless  person  she  ever  had  been.  No  comfort  to 
herself  or  to  any  one  else.  She  was  not  content 
to  stay  with  her  sister,  preferring  rather  to  wander 
around  the  country  associating  with  the  lower 
classes  of  people.  At  last  she  became  acquainted 
with  and  married  a  low,  dissipated  man,  one  who 
could  truly  sing,  "  No  foot  of  land  do  I  possess,  I 
am  a  wanderer  in  this  wilderness." 

"  The  ways  of  the  froward  are  an  abomination 
in  the  sight  of  the  Lord."  She  again  took  upon 
herself  the  cares  and  duties  of  a  housekeeper.  A 
position  she  was  very  illy  prepared  to  fill,  now,  as 
before,  possessing  no  faculty  for  making  her  home 
pleasant.  They  lived  in  a  little  shanty  within  one 
or  two  miles  of  a  town,  near  one  of  those  low 
grogeries  where  the  very  lowest  class  of  men 
drink,  fight  and  gamble. 

"  Well,"  said  Jane  to  her  husband,  "I  am  lone- 
some here,  and  I  want  to  go  and  get  my  girl  to 
stay  with  me." 

"  Have  you  a  girl  ?  I  never  knew  that  before,'' 
said  he. 

"  Yes,  I  have  a  girl,  and  I  ana  going  to  have  her, 
too." 


168  Suffering  Millions. 

"  Well,  old  woman  you  had  better  not  be  too 
fast.  I  don't  know  as  I  want  her  here." 

"  I  don't  care  whether  you  want  her  or  not,  I 
am  going  to  have  her,"  said  Jane,  "  and  if  you  get 
drunk  it  will  scare  her  almost  to  death,  for  she 
never  saw  any  one  drunk." 

"  Oh,  so,  so !  She,  I  suppose,  is  a  young  goddess 
that  I  will  have  to  fall  down  and  worship  !  We 
will  see  about  that.  If  I  want  to  drink  I  shall 
drink,  for  all  of  you  or  your  girl  either." 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  get  her  any  way.  I  might 
as  well  have  her  help  as  May.  May  is  her  aunt. 
I  can't  bear  her  anyway.  My  folks  all  stick  up 
for  May,  but  I  will  show  them  that  I  am  the  girl's 
mother,  and  I  am  going  to  have  her." 

"  Do  as  you  please,  old  gal,  and  I  will  let  you," 
said  he,  "  I  will  get  old  Davidson  to  take  you  and 
go  after  her."  Mr.  Davidson  was  the  man  Jane's 
husband  was  working  for. 

Now  if  Jane  had  used  any  judgment  at  all,  she 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  let  Lulu  stay  where 
she  was. 

"  Well  Davidson,  I  came  over  to  see  if  you 
would  take  tfce  old  woman  after  her  girl  ?" 

"  Do  you  mean  your  wife  ?"  said  Mr.  Davidson. 

u  Yes,"  said  he. 

"  I  did  not  know  your  wife  had  a  girl,"  said  Mr. 
Davidson. 

"  Neither  did  I  until  this  morning." 


Suffering  Millions.  169 

"Do  you  know  whether  the  people  who  have 
the  child  will  be  willing  to  give  her  up?" 

"  They  will  have  to,  my  woman  says.  They  are 
not  good  to  her." 

"  I  am  afraid  we  may  have  trouble  about  getting 
the  child,  and  as  you  are  not  situated  to  care  for  a 
child,  I  think  you  had  better  let  her  be  where  she 
is,"  said  Mr.  Davidson. 

"Oh!  if  you  are  not  willing  to  go,  I  will  get 
some  one  else." 

"  I  am  willing  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Davidson,  "  but  I 
am  afraid  it  will  not  be  as  well  for  the  child.  But 
I  will  go  over  and  see  your  wife.  I  may  persuade 
her  to  let  the  child  remain  where  she  is  until  you 
are  better  situated  to  take  care  of  her." 

"  Oh.  you  can  go  over,  but  it  will  do  no  good,  for 
she  is  going  to  have  her  dead  or  alive,  one  of  the 
two." 

"  I  guess  she  is  not  as  ferocious  as  that,  is  she  ? " 
said  Mr.  Davidson. 

"  I  came  over,"  said  Mr.  Davidson,  "  to  see  you 
about  your  little  girl.  Your  husband  says  that 
you  have  one  that  you  wish  to  go  after.  Do  you 
not  think  the  child  better  off  where  she  is  ?  You 
are  not  situated  well  to  have  her  here." 

"  I  am  going  to  have  her,  any  way.  She  lives 
with  her  aunt,  who  is  not  good  to  the  child.  She 
knocks  and  kicks  her  around,"  said  Jane. 

"Is  her  aunt  your  sister?" 


170  Suffering  Millions. 

"  No,  she  is  William's  sister,  he  was  my  first 
husband." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  I  will  have  to  go,  but  I  really 
dread  it,"  said  Mr.  Davidson.  "  How  far  is  it 
to  where  the  child  lives  ?" 

"  It  is  near  T—     — ." 

"  It  will  be  a  long;  drive,  for  that  is  over  twenty 
miles  from  here.  Well,  I  will  go  and  get  ready, 
and  you  had  better  wrap  up  pretty  warm,  as  it  is 
very  cold." 

Mr.  Davidson  came  directly  with  his  horses  and 
sleigh,  and  they  were  soon  on  their  way.  "  I  am 
very  much  afraid  you  are  doing  a  bad  thing  for 
your  child,"  said  Mr.  Davidson.  "  You  know  your 
husband  drinks." 

The  sleighing  was  fine  although  it  was  very 
cold.  Mr.  Davidson  did  not  enjoy  the  trip,  as  he 
was  so  afraid  that  it  was  not  best  for  the  child  for 
he  well  knew  that  Jane  was  not  well  situated  to 
take  care  of  her. 

"  We  will  soon  The  there,"  said  Jane,  "  I  am  well 
acquainted  with  the  roads." 

"What  will  you  do  if  her  aunt  refuses  to  give 
the  child  up?" 

"  I  am  going  to  have  her,"  said  Jane,  "  at  the 
risk  of  my  life.  I  did  once  strike  that  good-for- 
nothing  May,  and  came  near  breaking  her  arm. 
She  carried  black  and  blue  marks  for  weeks  and 
weeks." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Davidson,  "  I  hope  you  will  have 


Suffering  Millions.  171 

no  trouble  to-day.  Of  course  I  know  nothing  of 
either  the  child  or  her  aunt." 

"  Well,  I  know  both  of  them,"  said  Jane,  "  and 
I  expect  to  have  trouble,  but  I  don't  care  if  1  do. 
If  I  strike  her  this  time  I  hope  1  can  break  her 
arm,  or  head,  one  of  the  two." 

"  You  had  better  be  careful  or  you  might  get 
yourself  into  trouble." 

u  I  am  not  afraid  of  trouble,"  said  Jane,  "  I 
would  like  to  kill  her.  Lulu  is  my  child,  I  am  her 
mother  and  I  am  going  to  have  her  to  day." 

"  Well,  here  we  are,"  said  Jane. 

"  Is  this  the  place  ?"  said  Mr.  Davidson. 

"Yes,  this  is  where  May  lives." 

"  A  pretty  place,"  said  Mr.  Davidson.  "You  go 
in  ;  I  had  rather  not  go." 

"Oh,  I  guess  you  are  afraid  to  go,"  said  Jane, 
"  but  I  am  not  one  of  the  afraid  kind." 

Jane  tore  into  the  house  like  an  infuriated 
tigress. 

"  I  came,"  said  she,  "  after  Lulu." 

It  happened  to  be  Lulu's  birth-day,  and  May 
had  just  made  her  a  present  of  a  gold  locket  and 
several  other  little  things.  Lulu  was  that  day 
expecting  to  have  a  nice  time. 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  want  to  go !  I  do  not  want  to  go !" 
cried  Lulu.  "  Why  did  you  come  ?  Oh  !  ma,  let 
me  stay  with  Aunt  May." 

"  Xo,  I  want  you  to  go.     You  are  my  child,  and 


172  Suffering  Millions. 

I  might  as  well  have  your  work  as  for  May  to  have 
it." 

"  Oh !  Aunt  May,  let  me  stay  with  you.  I  can- 
not go !  I  cannot  go !" 

"  Dear,  darling  Lulu,  she  is  your  mother.  I  can- 
not keep  you  if  she  wants  you  to  go." 

"  Who  is  the  gentleman  in  the  sleigh  ?  Is  that 
your  husband  ?"  said  May. 

"  No,"  said  Jane,  "  that  is  old  Davidson.  He  is 
the  man  my  husband  works  for." 

"  Well,"  said  May,  "  I  will  go  and  have  him  put 
up  his  horses  and  have  some  dinner.  It  is  very 
cold  to-day."  She  then  stepped  to  the  door  and 
addressed  Mr.  Davidson  :  "  Come  in  and  get  warm 
and  have  some  dinner." 

"Oh,  I  guess  we  will  not  stop  long,"  said  he. 

"  Comes  in  and  get  warm  ;  you  must  .be  very 
cold,"  again  said  May. 

Mr.  Davidson  hitched  his  team,  and  came  into 
the  house.  Being  an  intelligent  man,  he  saw  at 
once  that  the  child  was  very  much  better  off  with 
her  aunt.  Things  were  neat  and  tidy,  and  a  home- 
like appearance  seemed  to  prevail.  Lulu  did  and 
said  everything  she  could  to  have  her  mother  let 
her  stay,  but  nothing  .would  do  but  the  child  must 
go.  May  packed  dear  Lulu's  trunk,  putting  in  the 
little  dresses  and  clothes  she  had  so  carefully 
made,  while  tears  dropped  upon  them  almost  like 
rain. 

At  last  things   were   ready.      May   went    with 


Suffering  Millions.  173 

them  to  the  sleigh.  Poor  little  Lulu  cried  and 
begged  to  stay,  but  nothing  would  do  but  she  must 
go.  The  child  had  known  so  little  about  her 
mother  for  so  long  she  was  almost  afraid  of  her. 
As  she  had  become  very  queer  looking,  and  as  she 
lacked  every  quality  that  goes  to  make  a  noble 
mother,  I  was  not  surprised  at  the  poor  little 
child. 

Said  May  to  Mr.  Davidson,  "  If  the  child  gets 
too  homesick,  I  hope  you  will  see  that  she  can  get 
back  home." 

"  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  the  child,"  said  he. 

As  the  sleigh  drove  away  poor  little  Lulu  said, 
"  Oh,  why  did  you  come  after  me  ?  I  do  not  want 
to  go.  I  want  to  stay  with  Aunt  May.  I  want  to 
go  to  school.  Oh,  dear,  dear,  what  shall  I  do? 
Take  me  back,  please  do !"  Appealing  through 
her  tears  to  Mr.  Davidson. 

"  Poor  little  girl,  do  not  cry,"  said  Mr.  Davidson, 
"  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you." 

"  Oh  dear,  dear,  I  do  not  want  to  go.  I  cannot 
go!" 

May  watched  the  sleigh  as  they  drove  away, 
and  then  returned  to  the  house  feeling,  a*  Cole- 
ridge expresses  it : 

"Like  one  that  on  a  lonesome  road 
Doth  walk  in  fear  and  dread." 

She  could  but  feel  that  the  change  was  one  that 
would  involve  the  poor  child  in  sorrow,  misery,  and 
disgrace.  The  house  seemed  lonely  indeed  with- 


174  Suffering  Millions. 

out  Lulu.  There  are  times  in  life  that  we  are  sur- 
rounded by  sorrows  that  are  worse  than  death. 
When  we  lay  our  friends  in  the  grave,  especially 
in  childhood,  we  know  it  is  the  end  of  their  suffer- 
ing. Not  so  when  we  see  a  frail,  helpless  child 
placed  in  a  position  that  we  know  can  but  result 
in  suffering  and  sorrow. 

"  Where  is  Lulu  ?"  said  May's  husband  when  he 
returned  home. 

"  Oh,  Jane  came  to  day  and  took  her  away." 

u  For  mercy  sake !  And  you  let  her  go  ?"  said 
he. 

"  Well,  what  could  I  do  ?  You  know  she  is  her 
mother,"  said  May. 

"Ah !  there  is  the  trouble.  But  what  has  she 
ever  done  for  the  child  ?  Did  Lulu  want  to  go  ?" 

u  No,  the  child  cried  and  begged  to  stay,  but 
Jane  insisted  that  she  was  her  mother,  and  that 
she  must  go." 

"If  Lulu  stays  there  long  she  will  go  just  as 
little  Willie  went.  She  was  his  mother,  also,"  said 
May's  husband. 

"  Well,"  said  May,  while  tears  streamed  from 
her  eyes,  "  I  am  afraid  if  poor,  darling  Lulu  stays 
there  long  we  will  never  see  her  again.  She  will 
be  exposed  to  all  kind  of  bad  influences.  Jane 
had  as  lieve  send  her  to  that  low  grog  shop,  and 
no  doubt  she  will  be  sent  there  after  beer  for  her 
dissipated  husband." 

"  I  would  not  have  let  the  little  girl  go.     It  is  a 


Suffering  Millions.  175 

shame  that  such  a  nice  child  as  Lulu  should  be  in 
such  company,  mother  or  no  mother.  Jane  has 
always  been  a  disgrace  to  every  one  who  ever 
had  anything  to  do  with  her." 

"  Yes,"  said  May,  "  her  own  deaf  'brother,  good 
and  noble  man  that  he  is,  could  never  do  anything 
with  her." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  LaMarr,  becoming  somewhat 
excited,  "nor  an  angel  from  heaven  could  do  no 
more  with  that  woman  than  with  a  cannibal.  I 
cannot  understand  why  such  a  woman  was  ever 
created,  unless  it  was  to  show  to  the  world  that 
not  every  one  who  bears  the  sacred  name  of 
mother  is  entitled  to  it.  Mother!  That  name  to 
me  so  dear!  Dear  to  me  because  the  one  who 
bore  that  name  for  me  would  gladly  have  sacri- 
ficed her  own  life  for  mine.  Poor  Lulu  little 
knows  the  true  meaning  of  that  word.  This  is 
why  the  child  is  so  dear  to  me." 

"  Poor  little  girl,"  said  May. 

"I  never  will  take  another  child  who  has  a 
father  or  mother  living,"  said  LaMarr. 

I  now  saw  they  were  both  so  excited  and  disap- 
pointed that  I  thought  it  time  for  me  to  say  some- 
thing, so  I  remarked  to  May's  husband,  u  Oh,  you 
could  not  be  so  cruel  as  that  could  you  ?  If  every 
one  would  say,  and  stick  to  it,  that  they  would  not 
take  a  child  having  a  living  father  or  mother, 
what  would  become  of  the  many  thousands  of 
poor  little  and  worse  than  orphan  children  like 


176  Suffering  Millions.' 

Lulu  ?  Lulu  would  no  doubt  long  ago  have  been 
in  her  grave,  if  no  one  but  her  mother  had  taken 
care  of  her." 

"  Yes,"  cried  May,  "and  the  poor  little  child 
would  have  been  better  off  than  she  now  will  be 
to  be  beaten  and  knocked  around  by  Jane  and  her 
drunken  husband." 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  it  is  very  bad  for  Lulu.  I  can- 
not imagine  what  will  happen  to  the  child  if  she 
remains  long  with  her  mother.  I  very  much 
fear  she  will  go  to  ruin." 

"  Oh  dear  me,"  said  May,  "  to  think  of  Lulu 
being  raised  in  ignorance,  and  having  no  advan- 
tage for  school  is  more  than  1  can  stand.  Better 
would  it  have  been  for  the  child  never  to  have 
been  born  than  to  be  raised  as  she  now  will  be." 


Suffering  Millions.'  177 


CHAPTER  XVIII, 


At  the  home  of  Jane  there  was  another  scene. 
A  poor,  miserable  hut,  her  husband  a  rough  look- 
ing man,  with  dishevelled  hair,  and  features  that 
made  a  person  stand  aghast,  presenting  to  the  eye 
of  a  keen  observer  a  person  of  the  lowest  and  most 
debased  character.  Poor  little  Lulu,  half  fright- 
ened to  death,  feared  to  enter  this  dismal  place. 
To  look  upon  such  a  place  and  call  it  home,  was 
more  than  the  poor  little  child  could  stand.  She 
clung  to  Mr.  Davidson.  "  My  heart  fairly  bled," 
said  he  to  a  friend,  u  for  that  nice  little  girl." 

"  Oh !  ma,  let  me  go  home  with  Mr.  Davidson 
I  do  not  want  to  stay  here." 

"  No,  you  must  stay  with  me,"  said  her  mother. 

"  Let  the  child  come  over  to  our  house  as  often 
as  she  likes,"  said  Mr.  Davidson.  I  think  my  wife 
can  reconcile  the  child." 

"  I  will  go  home  with  you  if  you  will  let  me," 
said  Lulu.  "  Oh,  please  let  me  go,  I  am  afraid  to 
stay  here.  I  will  work  for  you." 

Mr.  Davidson  was  overcome  by  the  innocent 
pleading  of  the  poor  little  child.  "If  you  will  not 
let  her  go  now,  you  must  let  her  come  soon.  You 
should  understand  that  the  child  is  not  accustomed 
to  things  as  they  are  here.  She  is  homesick,  and 

12 


178  Suffering  Millions. 

• 

that  is  one  of  the  worst  kinds  of  sickness,"  said 
Mr.  Davidson. 

"  She  is  no  better  to  stay  here  than  I  am,"  said 
Jane. 

Mr.  Davidson  growing  indignant  replied,  "Yes, 
it  is  different.  You  came  here  because  you  wanted 
to,  and  are  satisfied.  This  poor  child  you  have 
taken  from  a  good  home.  I  think  the  cases  quite 
different. 

"  Well,  she  is  my  child,  I  am  her  mother,  and  I 
am  going  to  have  her  help  me.  I  might  as  well 
have  her  help  as  for  May  to  have  it." 

"Aunt  May  does  not  make  me  work  hard,"  said 
Lulu. 

"  You  had  better  shut  up,"  said  Jane.  "  You  al- 
ways stick  up  for  that  trifling  May.  If  I  had  a 
mother  I  would  treat  her  as  such ;  children  now  a- 
days  have  got  above  their  parents.  It  is  a  ridic- 
lous  shame,  is  it  not?" 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Davidson,  "  there  is  a  great 
difference  between  parents.  This  child,  as  you 
say,  has  not  been  with  you  much  of  the  time ;  you 
seem  like  a  stranger  to  her ;  no  wonder  the  child 
is  afraid." 

About  this  time  some  of  the  drunken  rioters 
were  coming  from  the  grog  shop. 

"Well,  I  must  go  home,"  said  Mr.  Davidson. 
"  Take  good  care  of  the  little  child." 

Lulu  looked  after  him  with  tears  streaming  down 


Suffering  Millions.  179 

her  pale  cheeks.    "  Oh !  ma,  I  am  so  lonely  here, 
can  I  not  go  to  Mr.  Davidson's." 

"No,  you  must  stay  with  me." 

Jane's  husband  was  a  cross,  burly  man  of  whom 
Lulu  was  afraid,  arid  his  companions  who  fre- 
quented the  grog  shop  were  of  such  a  character 
that  the  child  thought  that  she  surely  had  got 
among  heathens. 

"  I  never  felt  so  sorry  in  my  life  for  a  child  as  I 
did  for  that  little  girl,"  said  Mr.  Davidson  to  his 
wife  when  he  got  home.  "  If  I  had  known  how 
the  child  was  situated  I  would  never  have  gone 
after  her.  But  Fred's  wife  (Fred  was  Jane's  hus 
band)  said  that  the  people  who  had  her  were  not 
good  to  her,  so  I  thought  I  would  go." 

"  Oh,  that  woman  is  not  bright.  I  thought  to 
myself  when  you  went,  if  her  child  had  any  home 
at  all  she  was  better  off  than  she  could  possibly  be 
with  her,"  said  his  wife. 

k'  The  child  had  a  good  home  and  her  aunt  is  an 
intelligent  woman  who  thinks  everything  of  the 
child.  The  little  girl  is  one  of  the  nicest'  little 
girls  I  ever  saw.  The  poor  little  thing  begged  to 
stay  with  her  aunt,  but  nothing  would  satisfy  her 
mother  but  to  bring  her  away.  The  poor  child 
cried  almost  all  the  way  here.  When  we  got  to 
their  shanty,  Fred  came  out.  The  child,  half 
frightened,  clung  to  me,  and  no  wonder,  for  Fred 
always  looks  frightful  enough  to  scare  a  man  to 


180  Suffering  Millions. 

death,  let  alone  a  child.    The  child  is  a  pratty,  re 
fined  looking  little  girl." 

"  Poor  little  thing,"  replied  Mrs.  Davidson,  "  we 
must  see  about  her.  She  may  get  sick." 

Poor,  silly  Jane  had  fallen  so  low  that  she  also 
began  drinking  almost  as  bad  as  her  dissipated 
husband.  She  found  great  pleasure  in  hanging 
about  the  saloon  joking  with  the  half  intoxicated 
men,  who  were  of  the  most  debased  character. 
Shortly  after  Lulu's  arrival  her  mother  said, "  come 
Lulu,  we  will  go  over  to  Mr.  Kruger's.  This  was 
the  man  to  whom  the  saloon  belonged.  Lulu,  glad 
to  get  away  from  the  dismal  place,  readily  went 
with  her  mother.  But  as  soon  as  they  arrived  at 
the  place  the  child  saw  something  was  wrong- 
The  red,  bloated  faces  of  the  low  fellows,  their 
rough,  vile  talk,  and  the  sight  of  seeing  her  mother 
also  indulging  in  the  low  conversation  and  drink- 
ing the  poisonous  stuff,  half  frightened  the  child  to 
death. 

"  Well,"  said  one  of  the  drunken  men,  "  quite  a 
pretty  little  miss.  Won't  you  give  me  a  kiss,  little 
girl?"" 

Lulu  turned  pale  and  began  to  cry.  At  this  the 
low  fellow  caught  the  child  in  his  arms  and  said, 
"  I  will  soon  make  you  feel  better ;  you  must  have 
some  wine."  He  took  a  small  glass,  filled  it  half 
full  of  wine  and  tried  to  pour  it  down  Lulu's 
mouth.  The  poor  little  girl  fought  and  screamed, 
and  giving  the  fellow  a  scratch  in  the  face,  she 


Buffering  Millions.  181 

grabbed  his  hand  and  bit  it  so  he  let  her  fall 
on  the  floor.  Poor  little  Lulu  Jay  unconscious  at 
his  feet.  At  this  her  mother  rushed  up  and  said, 
"  you  have  killed  my  child." 

Water  was  poured  all  over  the  child  which  soon 
revived  her.  Jane  now  took  the  child  home,  still 
almost  unconscious. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Davidson's  wife  said  to 
her  husband,  "you  must  go  over  and  see  how  that 
little  girl  is  getting  along.  I  could  hardly  sleep 
last  night  thinking  about  the  poor  little  child." 

u  Neither  could  I,  and  I  am  guing  over  and  see 
that  woman.  I  am  going  to  have  that  child  sent 
back  if  I  have  to  employ  an  officer  to  take  her.  I 
feel  like  one  condemned  for  bringing  the  child 
from  a  good  home.  She  is  a  sweet  little  girl  and 
when  the  poor  little  thing  begged  so  to  stay  with 
me,  it  touched  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Davidson, 
wiping  away  a  tear. 

"  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  his  wife.  "  Bring  the 
child  over  here  if  you  can,  but  I  expect  you  will 
have  trouble  with  her  mother." 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  do.  She  is  not  capable  of  tak- 
ing care  of  the  child,  if  she  is  it's  mother,  and  I  am 
going  to  have  something  done.  I  am  now  thor- 
oughly aroused.  There  is  a  law  to  protect  helpless 
little  children  and  this  one  needs  protection  if  ever 
a  child  did." 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Mr.  Davidson,  as  he 
entered  the  dismal  abode.  Poor  Lulu  seemed 


182  Suffering  Millions. 

very  much  pleased  to  see  him.  The  child  looked 
a  shade  paler  than  when  he  first  saw  her  at  her 
aunt's.  "  How  did  the  little  girl  get  along  during 
the  night  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  her  mother,  "  she  cried  a  good  deal. 
She  was  so  afraid  of  the  men  over  at  the  saloon. 
There  was  a  fight  and  some  of  the  drunken  men 
made  so  much  noise  that  it  nearly  scared  her  to 
death." 

"Did  Fred  get  drunk?"  said  Mr.  Davidson. 

"  Oh,  he  got  a  little  boosey,  but  you  know  I  am 
not  afraid  of  him." 

"No  doubt  you  are  not,"  said  Mr.  Davidson, 
"  but  this  little  girl  is.  She  has  not  been  accus- 
tomed to  such  scenes  and  it  is  not  best  for  a  child 
to  live  in  continual  fear.  I  think  after  the  child 
has  made  you  a  good  visit  you  had  better  let  her 
go  back  to  her  aunt's,  so  she  can  be  sent  to  school. 
I  think  it  will  be  better  for  her,  as  her  aunt  thinks 
so  much  of  her,  she  will  be  good  to  her." 

"  I  don't  care  if  she  does  go,"  said  Jane.  "  She 
has  acted  PO  since  she  has  been  here  that  I  will  be 
glad  when  she  is  gone." 

"  Let  her  go  over  to  our  house.  My  wife  would 
like  to  see  the  child,"  said  Mr.  Davidson. 

Lulu  was  overjoyed  to  get  away  from  such  a  dis- 
mal house. 

"  Well,"  little  girl,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Davidson,  "  would  you  like  to  come  and  live 
with  me  ?" 


Suffering  Millions.  183 

"  I  would  like  to  go  back  and  live  with  Aunt 
May.  I  was  grandma's  girl  as  long  as  she  lived, 
and  now  I  am  Aunt  May's." 

"  Well,  little  girl,  if  you  want  to  go  back  to  live 
with  your  aunt,  I  am  going  to  see  that  you  go.  I 
will  give  you  money  to  go  back  on  the  cars.  You 
can  make  your  mother  a  good  visit,  then  you  can 
go  back." 

"  Oh,"  said  Lulu,  "  I  am  so  glad !  I  am  so  glad  ! 
Now  I  can  see  Aunt  May,  and  always  live  with 
her.  Aunt  May  wants  to  send  me  to  school  all  of 
the  time.  I  wish  I  could  go  to-day." 

"No,  you  make  your  mother  a  visit,  then  you 
can  go." 

"  Oh  !  you  are  so  good,"  said  Lulu, "  clapping  her 
hands,  "  I  now  can  go  home.  I  am  so  afraid  to 
stay  over  where  ma  stays.  I  am  afraid  of  that 
man,  and  those  men  that  are  drinking.  I  never 
before  saw  such  work." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davidson  were  very  kind  to  the 
little  girl.  They  knew  she  could  not  stand  it  long 
at  such  a  place. 

"  I  was  bound  to  have  that  child  sent  back  to  her 
aunts,"  said  Mr.  Davidson  to  me  a  few  months 
afterward,  as  I  happened  to  meet  him.  "  I  felt  so 
sorry  when  I  saw  what  a  good  home  the  poor  child 
had.  Of  course  she  could  never  have  been  raised 
any  way  with  her  mother." 

''Well,"  said  Jane  to  her  husband,  after  Lulu 
went  over  to  Mr.  Davidson's,  "I  will  be  glad  to 


184  Suffering  Millions. 

have  Lulu  go  back  and  live  with  May.  Lulu  has 
always  been  a  headstrong  thing.  I  felt  like  giving 
her  a  good  whipping  last  night.  The  good-for- 
nothing  thing  cried  so  I  could  hardly  sleep,  afraid 
of  those  men  at  the  saloon.  Who  ever  heard  of 
such  a  thing?  She  just  needed  a  good  thrashing, 
and  she  will  get  it,  too,  if  she  don't  behave." 

"I  really  don't  know  what  you  wanted  to  bring 
her  here  for,"  said  her  husband.  "  I  thought  when 
I  saw  you  comin'  you  had  brought  trouble.  She 
look'd  scar't  to  death,  and  when  she  was  beginnin' 
to  cry  I  felt  like  givin'  her  a  good  dab  in  the 
mouth." 

"My  folks,  as  well  as  William's  have  always 
made  a  fool  of  Lulu.  They  seem  to  think  her  a 
little  angel.  They  have  always  tried  to  nose  me 
around,  but  I  guess  they  have  found  out  that  I  will 
do  as  I  please." 

"Angel!"  said  he,  "hern  is  more  the  nature  of 
an  imp.  I  was  just  beginin'  to  make  up  my  mind 
to  give  her  a  good  whippin'." 

"Oh,  you  old  fool,  if  you  had  touched  her  I 
would  have  knocked  your  head  off  of  your 
shoulders." 

"  Well  you  jist  better  try  that.  I  ken  whip  such 
a  thing  as  you"  in  a  jiffy.  I  don't  want  your 
youngun  comin'  here  agin,"  said  he,  kicking  over 
a  chair  as  he  left. 

About  one  week  after  Lulu  went  away,  May  was 
out  in  her  door  yard.  "  Why,"  said  she,  looking 


Suffering  Millions.  185 

up  the  road,  "  if  there  doesn't  come  a  little  girl 
who  looks  just  like  Lulu."  Then  she  put  her  hand 
above  her  eyes  as  if  to  take  a  better  view.  '"Yes," 
said  she,  "  that  is  Lulu,"  and  then  she  rushed  to 
the  gate  to  meet  the  child. 

"  Why,  my  darling  Lulu,  how  did  you  get  back  ? " 

"  Oh,  that  kind  gentleman  who  came  with 
mamma  gave  me  money  to  come  back  on  the  cars. 
I  could  not  stay  there,  I  was  so  afraid.  Those 
men  over  at  the  saloon  drank  and  made  so  much 
noise  that  I  was  half  frightened  to  death.  I  could 
not  help  crying  so  much  of  the  time  that  ma  said 
she  would  be  glad  when  I  was  gone.  Oh,  dear, 
how  glad  I  am  to  get  home  again.  Mamma  is 
never  going  to  take  rue  away  again,  because  I  cried 
so  much  she  got  tired  of  me." 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  returned  home,  Lulu. 
School  will  commence  next  Monday  and  now  you 
can  go  again.  I  was  so  afraid  that  you  would  have 
no  advantage  for  school  there.- 

"  There  was  no  school  house  there,  nothing  but 
that  saloon,  and  those  wicked  men.  Oh,  Aunt 
May,  that  was  an  awful  place.  It  haunts  me  yet." 

"  Why  did  you  not  stay  at  the  depot  and  send 
for  us  to  meet  you,  Lulu  ?  You  must  be  very  tired 
for  you  have  walked  over  three  miles." 

"  I  was  so  glad  when  I  got  to  town  I  could  not 
wait,  and  I  knew  the  road  home  so  well,  too.  I  am 
not  tired  one  bit.  I  ran  almost  all  the  way. 


186  Suffering  Millions. 

Everything  seemed  so  nice.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  I 
am  home  again." 

"  Take  off  your  things,  Lulu,  and  sit  down.  You 
now  are  too  excited  to  feel  how  tired  you  are. 
Where  is  your  trunk  Lulu  ?  " 

"  It  is  at  the  depot.  Here  is  the  check,  Aunt 
May.  Mr.  Davidson  said  I  must  take  good  care  of 
it,  for  if  I  lost  it  I  could  not  get  my  trunk." 

It  was  hard  for  Lulu  to  sit  still  long.  She  had 
to  have  a  romp  with  her  pet  kitten  and  Fido. 
Said  she  to  them,  "  I  guess  you  are  glad  I  have  got 
home.  It  seems  like  a  month  since  I  saw  yon,  you 
dear,  old,  fat  puffy,"  said  she  to  her  kitty. 

When  May's  husband  came  back  she  said  to 
him, ';  we  have  a  little  stranger  here." 

"Who  is  it?"  said  he.  At  this  Lulu  came  run- 
ning out. 

"  Well,  well,  if  Lulu  isn't  at  home.  You  little 
elf.  I  guess  you  are  glad  to  get  home." 

"  I  guess  I  am  glad.  I  am  always  going  to  stay 
now.  I  did  not  like  to  stay  down  there  one  bit." 

"  Is  it  not  strange,"  said  May,  "  that  Lulu  likes 
to  stay  with  us  so  much  ? " 

"I  do  not  think  it  is,"  said  I.  "Children  are 
like  plants.  Now  you  know  there  are  plants  to 
which  poor  soil  or  rich  soil  seems  to  make  no  differ- 
ence. Mullen  or  burdock  do  admirably,  either  on 
gravelly  hillsides  or  in  rich  garden  soil,  but  take  a 
rose  or  a  hyacinth  and  turn  it  out  to  shift  for  itself 
by  the  roadside,  and  it  soon  dwindles  and  dies. 


Suffering  Millions.  187 

Just  so  it  is  with  children.  Some  can  stand  any 
treatment,  while  others  dwindle  and  die  unless 
treated  kindly.  I  can  plainly  see  Lulu  cannot 
stand  hard  treatment.  She  is  like  the  hyacinth 
and  would  soon  sicken  and  die  in  an  uncongenial 
home." 

That  evening  after  the  work  was  all  done  we 
gathered  around  the  comfortable  fire.  I  could  see 
that  May  and  her  husband  were  well  pleased  to 
have  the  little  girl  back.  Not  so  much  for  their 
own  benefit,  because  it  is  no  small  job  to  take  a 
child,  send  her  to  school  and  care  for,  but  because 
they  knew  it  would  have  been  a  thing  utterly  im- 
possible for  her  to  have  been  well  taken  care  of 
by  her  mother.  May  took  the  little  girl  on  her 
lap.  The  poor  child,  over  weary  with  her  long 
walk,  and  the  anxiety  she  had  passed  through 
while  at  her  mother's,  at  once  fell  asleep  in  her 
aunt's  arms.  Oh,  how  May  nestled  the  little  girl 
to  her  breast  and  looked  into  the  beautiful  face  of 
the  sleeping  child,  ller  head  was  a  wilderness  of 
curls  of  a  golden  auburn,  which  with  the  well  de- 
fined penciling  of  the  eyebrows,  the  delicate  pol- 
ished skin,  and  the  long  silken  veil  of  the  lashes 
that  fell  over  the  sleeping  eyes  made  her  look  like 
a  jewel  indeed,  too  pure  for  earth.  As  I  watched 
May's  tender,  motherly  care,  and  saw  the  beam  of 
love  that  sparkled  in  her  eye,  I  said,  "  Oh,  love  is 
heaven,  and  heaven  is  love."  "May,"  said  I,  "  I 
never  saw  such  love  as  you  have  for  Lulu." 


188  Suffering  Millions. 

"  Well,"  replied  May,  while  tears  streamed 
down  her  cheeks,  ik  the  poor  child  has  no  one  else 
to  love  her  but  me." 

"That  is  so,  May.  I  do  not  know  what  would 
become  of  the  dear  little  girl  if  it  were  not  for  you. 
Just  think,"  said  I,  "  of  the  poor  little  thing  being 
so  unhappy  with  her  mother.  But  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  in  this  case,  because  her  mother 
neither  possesses  the  love  nor  the  ability  to  take 
care  of  her.  Jane  is  an  exception,  different  from 
any  woman  I  ever  before  knew,  but  1  suppose 
there  are  others  just  as  trifling  as  she  is." 

May  then  undressed  the  little  girl  and  tenderly 
laid  her  in  her  bed.  The  child  was  so  tired  and 
weary  that  she  slept  far  into  the  next  day  before 
she  awoke.  She  seemed  so  refreshed  and  happy 
at  finding  herself  at  home  that  she  fairly  danced 
for  joy. 

After  dinner  May  said  to  me,  "  I  do  wish  I  could 
make  Lulu  some  more  school  dresses.  I  do  not 
feel  able  to  buy  new  ones,  as  my  husband  has  not 
the  means  just  now.  Don't  you  believe  I  could 
make  her  some  quite  respectable  ones  out  of  some 
of  my  old  dresses  ?  She  is  so  small  that  I  believe 
that  I  could  take  the  best  out  of  them  and  make 
it  over  for  her." 

"  I  think  you  could,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  try  at  least,"  said  May. 

I  could  not  help  watching  her  as  she  went  about 
the  task,  not  altogether  an  easy  one.  She  cut  and 


Suffering  Millions.  189 

planned  the  very  best  she  could  to  get  out  the 
dresses.  She  never  once  seemed  to  think  of  her- 
self. She  only  seemed  to  think  how  she  might  be 
able  to  make  Lulu  comfortable.  Out  of  some  old 
dresses  of  hers,  no  longer  fit  for  use,  she  made  Lulu 
some  nice,  neat  school  dresses.  Everything  May 
did  for  Lulu  seemed  to  please  the  little  girl  very 
much.  "  Oh,  aren't  those  dresses  nice,  that  Aunt 
May  made  me  ?  They  are  just  as  nice  as  new," 
said  Lulu  when  thev  were  done. 


190  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XIX, 


As  May  was  very  fond  of  those  older  than  her- 
self, she  spent  many  happy  hours  at  her  home 
with  an  old  Christian  lady,  who  seemed  to  take 
much  pains  to  be  with  her  a  great  deal  of  the  time, 
and  to  talk  much  on  the  subject  of  religion.  As 
she  had  great  confidence  in  this  lady,  it  made  an 
impression  on  her  mind.  She  began  to  think, 
"  can  I  be  mistaken  ?  Is  it  possible  I  am  all  in  the 
dark?  Is  there  a  glorious  world  beyond?"  Oh, 
how  she  longed  for  it  to  be  so.  Her  heart  and 
soul  sighed  for  something  better  than  the  cares 
and  sorrows  of  this  world.  The  glorious  light  of 
the  gospel  had  begun  to  dawn  in  her  heart.  But 
she  being  desirous  of  the  vain  things  of  life  was 
all  wrapped  up  in  the  idea  of  securing  wealth  and 
making  a  beautiful  home.  But  the  old  lady  would 
not  give  her  up.  As  a  true  Christian  she  talked 
with  her,  and  wrestled  in  earnest  prayer  that  God 
in  his  mercy  would  cause  the  light  to  dawn  in  her 
mind,  and  that  bhe  might  care  less  for  the  vain 
things  of  the  world,  and  more  for  heaven  and 
heavenly  things.  Still  May  did  not  yield,  her  heart 
was  so  hard.  She  would  say,  "  I  have  1,0  faith." 
Then  the  lady  would  tell  her  that  if  she  would  only 


Suffering  Millions.  191 

believe  she  would  receive  faith.  But  she  thought 
she  could  not  believe. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  the  lady,  "  there  have 
been  others  who  were  just  as  much  in  the  dark  as 
you  are,  yet  the  love  of  Jesus  has  dawned  into 
their  hearts,  and  overwhelmed  them  with  glory 
and  brightness." 

"  Yes,"  said  May,  "  but  it  does  seem  to  me  that 
I  have  done  everything  in  my  power,  and  yet  I  do 
not  feel  the  joy  that  Christians  tell  of.  No  doubt 
I  have  sinned  away  the  day  of  grace.  My  dispo- 
sition is  so  fiery  that  it  is  almost  beyond  my  power 
to  govern." 

u  Well,"  said  the  dear,  good  lady,  "  what  hap- 
pens to  desolate  souls,  who  thus  forsaken  cry  out 
to  God,  is  a  mystery  which  you  can  never  fathom 
until  you  have  been  exactly  where  they  are.  'In 
a  little  wrath  I  hid  my  face  from  thee  for  a 
moment,  but  with  everlasting  kindness  will  I  have 
mercy  .on  thee,  saith  the  Lord  thy  Redeemer.^ 
'  O  thou  tossed  with  tempest,  and  not  comforted, 
behold,  I  will  lay  thy  stones  with  fair  colors,  and 
thy  foundations  with  saphire.'  You  so  long  for 
the  fine,  and  vain  things  of  this  life,  but  are  they 
to  be  compared  with  these  glorious  promises?" 

"  No,"  said  May,  "  they  are  not,  yet  it  is  hard  for 
me  to  understand." 

"  It  is  a  most  remarkable  property  of  this  old 
Hebrew  literature  that  it  seems  to  be  enchanted 
with  a  divine  and  living  power,  which  strikes  the 


192  Suffering  Millions. 

nerve  of  individual  consciousness,  in  every  deso- 
late and  suffering  soul.  It  has  raised  the  burden 
from  thousands  of  crushed  spirits.  It  has  been  as 
the  day  spring  to  thousands  of  perplexed  wander- 
ers. Ah !  let  us  treasure  these  old  words,  for  as  of 
old,  Jehovah  chose  to  dwell  in  a  tabernacle  in  the 
wilderness,  and  between  the  cherubim  in  the 
temple,  so  now  he  dwells,  and  to  the  simple  soul 
that  seek  for  him  here,  he  will  look  forth  as  of  old 
from  the  pillar  of  cloud  and  of  fire." 

"  Well,  I  will  try  and  give  this  subject  much 
thought." 

But  after  the  dear  old  lady  went  home,  May's 
mind  was  soon  consumed  with  the  care  of  her 
household.  She  hurried  from  one  thing  to  another ; 
she  rubbed,  and  scrubbed,  and  dusted,  in  order,  as 
she  expressed  it,  to  have  things  glitter.  She 
fretted  and  worried  because  things  were  not  just 
as  she  would  have  them.  That  night  she  went  to 
bed  all  tired  out  with  the  care  and  anxiety  of  her 
work.  She  was  very  nervous,  and  very  ambitious 
to  make  her  home  beautiful  and  attractive  to  those 
whom  she  loved.  She  was  as  was  Martha  of  old? 
"  compassed  about  with  much  serving."  She  had 
not,  like  Mary,  chosen  that  good  part  that  should 
never  be  taken  away."  She  was  restless  and  dis- 
turbed in  her  dreams,  and  about  the  dawn  of  day 
as  she  lay  about  half  awake,  she  heard  as  audible 
as  one  could  speak,  ''Therefore  I  say  unto  you, 
take  no  thought  for  your  life,  what  ye  shall  eat,  or 


Suffering  Millions.  193 

what  ye  shall  drink ;  nor  yet  for  your  body,  what 
ye  shall  put  on.  Is  not  the  life  more  than  meat, 
and  the  body  than  raiment?"  "  Behold  the  fowls 
of  the  air;  they  sow  not,  neither  do  they  reap,  nor 
gather  into  barns;  yet  your  heavenly  Father  feed- 
eth  them.  Are  ye  not  much  better  than  they  ? 
And  why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment?  Consider 
the  lillies  of  the  field  how  they  grow ;  they  toil 
not,  neither  do  they  spin,  and  yet  I  say  unto  you 
that  even  Solomon,  in  all  his  glory,  was  not 
arrayed  like  one  of  these."  She  sprang  up,  "who 
was  that  speaking  to  me  ?"  She  now  seemed  to 
catch  the  idea.  It  was  the  one  "  that  spake  as 
never  man  spake."  There  seemed  to  come  to  her 
mind  a  peaceful  sensation,  and  she  fell  to  rest  in 
another  body  than  she  had  retired  to  bed  in. 

All  through  the  forenoon  she  seemed  to  be  in  a 
very  thoughtful  mood.  In  the  afternoon  her  dear 
old  lady  friend  called  again  to  see  her.  This  dear 
Christian  lady  felt  a  great  interest  in  May's  spirit- 
ual welfare. 

"  Well,"  said  she  smilingly,  for  she  well  knew 
that  May  did  not  like  to  have  very  much  said  to 
her  on  the  subject  of  religion,  as  she  was  very 
irritable  at  times,  "you  promised  me  that  you 
would  give  the  subject  of  religion  much  thought 
yesterday  as  I  was  taking  my  departure." 

"  Well,"  said  May,  "  I  did.     But  after  you  went 
away  I  had  so  much  work  to  do  that  I  did  not  get 
time  to  think  much  about  it." 
13 


194  Suffering  Millions. 

The  poor  old  lady's  looks  showed  that  she  was 
disappointed. 

"  But,"  said  May,  "  there  is  one  question  I  want 
to  ask  you.    This  morning,  just  a  little  before  day 
light,  were  you  praying  for  me  ?" 

"  Oh  May,"  said  the  dear  old  lady, '"  I  could  not 
give  you  up.  Yes,  this  morning,  long  before  the 
break  of  day,  I  wrestled  with  God  in  pray  for  you. 
Oh,  May,"  said  she,  while  tears  trickled  down  her 
furrowed  cheeks,  "  I  can  not  let  your  precious  soul 
be  lost." 

"  Well,"  said  May,  "  I  thought  you  were,  because 
this  morning  as  I  lay  half  asleep  I  heard  audibly, 
is  if  some  one  was  speaking  to  me,  the  words  re- 
corded in  Matt,  6  Chap.;  25,  26,  28  verses." 

"  Oh!  that  is  He  !  that  is  He  !"  said  the  dear  old 
lady.  Oh,  now  May,  you  will  believe !  you  will 
believe !  you.can't  help  but  believe  now.  '  The  fear 
of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  Wisdom.'" 

"Oh!"  said  May,  "is  that  so?  Wisdom?  wis- 
dom !  Oh !  my  soul  longs  for  wisdom.  I  have 
wrestled  in  my  thoughts  for  wisdom  and  knowledge 
so  that  I  might  be  able  to  raise  my  dear  little 
niece  Lulu  in  the  right  way.  I  have  ever  felt  that 
I  was  not  fit  in  my  own  strength  to  perform  such 
a  sacred  obligation,  but  I  could  not  understand 
how  to  gain  this  wisdom.  Will  you  pray  for  me, 
that  I  may  be  a  better,  a  purer  woman,  that  1  may 
gain  this  wisdom  that  my  soul  so  longs  for?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  pray  for  you  ;  I  have  prayed  for 


Suffering  Millions.  195 

you  for  weeks  and  weeks ;  But  May  this  is  not  all. 
If  you  would  receive  this  wisdom  you  must  pray 
for  yourself." 

"But,"  said  May,  "  I  am  such  a  great  sinner. 
God  does  not  answer  my  prayers." 

"  Then,"  said  the  lady,  u  Fear  thou  not,  for  I  am 
with  thee;  be  thou  not  dismayed,  for  I  am  thy 
God.  When  thou  passeth  through  the  waters  I 
will  be  with  thee,  and  through  the  rivers,  they 
shall  not  overflow  thee.  When  thou  walkest 
through  the  fire,  thou  shalt  not  be  burned,  neither 
shall  the  flame  kindle  upon  thee;  for  I  am  the 
Lord  thy  God,  the  Holy  one  of  Israel,  thy  Savior.' 
Do  you  not  believe  this  ?" 

"It  is  difficult  for  me  to  answer  that  question. 
I  think  that  the  differences  among  human  beings 
in  the  natural  power  of  faith  are  as  great  as  any 
other  constitutional  diversity,  and  that  they  begin 
in  childhood.  Some  are  born  believers,  and  some 
are  born  skeptics.  I  was  one  of  the  latter.  There 
has  ever  been  an  eternal  query, — an  habitual  in- 
terrogation-point— to  almost  every  proposition  in 
my  mind,  even  from  childhood  ;  a  habit  of  looking 
at  everything  from  so  many  sides,  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  get  a  settled  assent  to  anything." 

"  Well,"  said  the  dear  old  lady,  u  no  doubt  the 
checkered  scenes  of  life  that  you  have  had  to  pass 
through  have  confirmed  this  skeptical  tendency." 

"I  think  they  have,"  said  May,  "but  now  I  am 
willing  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  become  better 


196  Suffering  Millions. 

and  more  able  to  well  perform  the  duties  which 
are  mine  to  perform." 

"Well  May,  you  have  become  very  dear  to  me, 
your  warm  impulsive  nature,  your  fiery  disposition, 
has  awakened  in  me  a  sense  of  fear  for  you. 
The  time  has  now  come,  1  do' believe,  in  your  life, 
when  you  must  give  your  heart  to  God  or  be  eter- 
nally lost.  It  is  not  long  after  a  person  wholly 
gives  himself  up  to  God,  and  humbly  cries  out 
'  save,  Lord,  or  I  perish,' '  here,  Lord,  I  give  myself 
to  thee,  it  is  all  that  1  can  do,'  and  prays  to  God 
for  strength  and  wisdom  to  direct,  before  the 
Comforter  comes  with  healing  in  its  wings." 

"  Well,"  said  May  to  the  dear  old  lady  not  long 
after  this  conversation,  "  I  now  can  truly  say  that 
light  has  dawned  into  my  heart.  I  now  would  not 
exchange  the  joy  I  feel  for  all  of  the  vain  things 
of  this  sinful  world.  Every  morning  as  I  awake, 
my  mind  is  filled  with  peace  and  joy ;  it  is  a 
foretaste  of  heaven." 

"  Thanks  be  to  the  Great  God,"  said  the  dear  ex- 
perienced Christian  lady.  "  But,  May,  you  must 
not  feel  discouraged  if  you  do  not  always  feel  this 
great  joy,  because  there  will  sometimes  dark 
seasons  arise.  You  know  there  is  no  night  without 
a  day.  Trust  God,  that  is  all." 


Suffering  Millions.  197 


CHAPTER  XX, 


"Well,  May,"  said  LaMarr,  one  day,  "I  have 
been  thinking  some  of  building  a  new  house.    I 
think  we  have  lived  in  this  old  one  long  enough. 
It  is  the  oldest  house  in  the  whole  country." 
"Oh !"  said  Lulu,  "  Will  not  that  be  nice?" 
"  We  do  need  a  better  house,"  said  .May,  "  Yet 
we  must  not  be  as  one  of  old." 

"Ah  !"  said  LaMarr,  "  I  suppose  you  mean  he 
who  said, '  This  will  I  do,  I  will  pull  down  my 
barns  and  build  greater ;  and  there  will  I  bestow 
all  my  fruits  and  goods.' '; 

"  You  know  how  it  was  with  him,  do  you  not?'' 

"  Yes,  but   he  had  become  vain,  and  made  a 

boast,  and  said  :   '  Saul,  thou  hast  much  goods  laid 

up  for  many  years,  take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink  and 

be  merry.' " 

"  But  you  know  God  said  unto  him,  'Thou  fool, 
this  night  shall  thy  soul  be  required  of  thee.' " 

u  But,"  said  I,  to  May,  "  It  also  said,  'So  is  he 
that  layeth  up  treasures  for  himself,  and  is  not 
rich  toward  god.'  It  is  all  right  to  try  and  make 
ourselves  comfortable  if  possible." 

"Well,  to-morrow  I  will  engage  the  masons  to 
lay  the  foundation,  so  that  by  the  middle  of 
autumn  the  house  can  be  finished." 


198  Suffering  Millions. 

It  was  a  fine,  warm  summer  day,  the  14th  of 
August,  that  the  masons  began  laying  the  stone 
foundation.  That  day  at  the  dinner  table  one  of 
the  men  said,  "  Lulu,  have  you  heard  that  your 
mother  has  left  her  husband?" 

"  Why !  no  !  When  did  she  do  that  ?  I  do  not 
blame  her,"  said  the  child, ''  for  he  was  the  most 
frightful  looking  person  I  ever  saw." 

"  Yes,  but,"  said  the  man,  "  why  did  she  marry 
such  a  person  ?"  And  hastily  added,  "  I  suppose 
Jane  has  very  many  queer  ideas." 

"  I  wonder  what  will  become  of  her  now,"  said 
May. 

"  Oh !"  said  the  man,  "  she  will  soon  run  across 
someone  else  to  marry  her." 

"  Well,"  said  LaMarr,  "  I  engaged  the  carpenters 
this  forenoon  to  build  the  house.  They  will  be 
here  as  soon  as  the  foundation  is  done." 

u  It  will  seem  nice  to  have  a  good  new  house  to 
live  in,"  said  Lulu.  "This  has  been  a  dear  old 
house,  but  as  other  people  have  new  houses  it  will 
be  nice  for  us  also,  will  it  not,  Aunt  May  ?" 

"  It  will  be  very  nice,"  was  the  reply,  "  but  we 
must  try  and  appreciate  it  as  we  should." 

After  dinner  the  men  resumed  their  work.  May 
was  busy  with  her  duties,  as  there  was  much  to  do 
in  order  to  keep  things  baked  up. 

"  Why  was  it  Aunt  May,  that  I  never  had  a 
mother  like  any  one  else?"  remarked  Lulu.  "I 
have  only  known  sorrow  from  my  mother." 


Suffering  Millions.  199 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  my  child, 

'  But  a  soul  untouched  by  sorrow, 

Aims  not  at  a  higher  state  ; 
Joy  seeks  no  brighter  morrow, 
Only  sad  hearts  learn  to  wait.' 

Lulu,  although  you  are  deprived  of  a  mother's 
love  and  tender  care,  I  will  try  and  do  as  well  for 
you  as  I  can." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  you  have  always  done  all  you  could 
for  me,"  said  Lulu. 

As  the  days  had  rolled  into  weeks  since  LaMarr 
had  been  building  his  house,  the  time  had  now 
come  when  they  were  to  move  into  it.  One  even- 
ing after  Lulu  had  come  home  from  school,  May 
said,  "  Well  Lulu,  we  are  moving  into  the  new 
house." 

"  Oh  dear,  how  glad  I  am,"  said  Lulu,  as  she 
rushed  around  helping  take  things  to  the  new 
house. 

"Well,"  said  May,  "I  feel  as  Will  Carlton 
expresses  it : 

Here  the  old  house  will  stand,  but  not  as  it  stood  before, 
Winds  will  whistle  through  it,  and  rain  will  flood  the  floor, 
And  over  the  hearth,  once  blazing,  the  snow-drifts  oft  will 

pile, 
And  the  old  thing  will  seem  to  be  a  mournin'  all  the  while. 

Fare  you  well,  old  house,  you're  naught  that  can  feel  or 

see, 

But  you  seem  like  a  human  being — a  dear  old  friend  to  me, 
And  we  never  will  have  a  better  home,  if  my  opinion 

stands, 
Until  we  commence  a-keeping  house  in  the  house  not  made 

with  hands." 


200  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XXI, 


After  wandering  around  the  country  for  some 
time  there  seemed  to  dawn  upon  Jane  a  streak  of 
good  luck.  A  bachelor  uncle,  just  before  he  died 
willed  her  and  her  brother  a  large  sum  of  money. 
Her  brother  being  many  hundred  miles  away  from 
her  and  feeling  very  anxious  for  her  welfare,  as 
soon  as  he  learned  of  the  will,  sat  down  and  wrote 
a  letter  to  his  sister.  "  My  dear  sister,"  wrote  he, 
"  Uncle  has  been  kind  enough  to  will  you  and  I  a 
large  sum  of  money,  do  now,  for  mercy  sake,  try 
and  take  good  care  of  yours.  You  know  money  is 
hard  to  get.  Lets  now  see  if  we  cannot  make 
good  use  of  it.  I  do  hope  you  will  stay  single. 
Please  do  not  think  of  such  a  thing  as  marrying 
again.  You  know  there  are  low  fellows  who 
would  marry  you  just  for  your  money,  and  then 
no  doubt  leave  you  as  soon  as  your  money  is  gone. 
Dear  sister,  there  is  your  dear  little  daughter, 
Lulu.  I  do  wish  you  would  spend  part  of  your 
money  on  her.  You  know  she  is  a  very  loveable 
girl.  Why  not  buy  her  an  organ  or  a  piano  ?  You 
know  she  has  a  fine  talent  for  music,  and  her 
Aunt  May  is  doing  all  she  can  for  her.  Just  now 
she  is  not  able  to  buy  a  musical  instrument.  No 
doubt  Lulu  would  make  a  fine  music  teacher  if 


Suffering  Millions.  201 

she  had  the  chance.  You  might  also  help  to  edu- 
cate your  little  son  Charley.  You  will  have 
enough  money,  which  if  taken  good  care  of,  will 
be  plenty  for  your  own  use,  and  also  some  to  help 
your  children  with." 

"  Well,"  said  Jane  as  she  slammed  the  letter 
down,  "  I  suppose  brother  thinks  I  have  not 
enough  sense  to  take  care  of  my  money.  I  shall 
do  just  as  1  please  with  it.  It  is  strange  what  fools 
my  folks  and  William's  also  make  of  themselves 
about  Lulu.  They  seem  to  think  her  a  perfect 
little  angel,  while  she  is  nothing  but  a  common 
child." 

"Well,"  said  the  lady  to  whom  she  was  talking, 
"You  know  your  folks  are  interested  in  your 
children's  welfare." 

•l  Yes,"  said  Jane,  "  they  are  more  interested  in 
their  welfare  than  they  are  in  mine." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  the  lady,  "  you  know  the  chil- 
dren are  young  yet.'' 

u  I  don't  care  if  they  are,"  said  Jane.  "  I  shall 
do  just  as  I  like." 

And  sure  enough  she  did.  Just  as  soon  as  she 
came  into  possession  of  the  money  she  married  a 
very  dissipated  fellow,  whom  she  met  at  a  friend's 
house,  and  who  was  almost  an  entire  stranger  to 
her.  All  of  her  friends  were  very  much  mortified 
at  the  way  she  did.  Another  thing  she  did  which 
made  it  very  bad  for  May  and  Lulu.  She  bought 
a  small  place  about  one  mile  from  their  home, 


202  Suffering  Millions. 

where  they  had  to  constantly  come  in  contact 
with  her  dissipated  husband.  The  first  time  I  met 
Jane  with  her  new  found  treasure  was  one  time 
when  I  was  going  to  a  friend's  house.  I  saw  her 
coming,  her  red  ribbons  fluttering  on  the  breeze, 
with  portmonie  swinging  in  her  hand,  and  very 
triumphant  indeed,  did  she  seem. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  this,  I  suppose,  is  your  new 
husband,  Jane,  is  it  not  ?"  1  saw  she  did  not  intend 
to  introduce  him  to  me,  so  I  thought  I  would 
make  myself  acquainted. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jane. 

As  soon  as  he  learned  who  I  was  he  tauntingly 
remarked,  "  Will  you  please  tell  Jane's  folks  to 
send  her  daughter,  whom  I  believe  they  call  Lulu, 
up  so  we  can  buy  her  a  piano  ?"  As  he  said  this  I 
saw  an  overbearing  grin  on  his  face.  "I  learn 
they  are  very  anxious,"  said  he,  "  for  Jane  to  use 
her  money  for  the  good  of  her  children."  I  at 
once  discovered  that  he  was  a  very  quarrelsome 
person,  I  therefore  left  them  and  went  to  my 
friend's  house. 

"  Well,"  said  my  friend,  "  did  you  see  Jane  and 
her  husband  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  saw  them,"  said  I.  I  then  told  her  how 
tauntingly  they  had  talked  about  Jane's  money. 

"Well,"  said  my  friend,  "Jane  might  better 
have  spent  her  money  for  her  poor  innocent  chil- 
dren than  to  have  spent  it  on  that  low  dissipated 
fellow.  Dear  me,  what  will  ever  become  of  that 


Suffering  Millions.  203 

poor,  trifling;,  silly  Jane  ?  Had  she  used  her  mon- 
ey as  she  should,  she  would  have  had  enough  to 
have  helped  to  educate  her  children,  an  1  plenty 
to  have  taken  good  care  of  herself.  But  now  it 
will  be  squandered.  The  very  day  that  she  mar- 
ried this  fellow  she  bought  him  a  twenty  dollar 
suit  of  clothes.  It  is  really  too  bad,  now  poor 
little  Lulu,  and  all  of  Jane's  folks  must  be  dis- 
graced by  this  low  drunken  fellow." 


204  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XXII, 


One  day,  a  few  months  after  Jane's  marriage, 
May  saw  a  man  drive  up  to  the  gate  in  an  excited 
manner,  spring  from  his  vehicle,  leaving  his  horse 
unhitched,  and  come  reeling  towards  the  house. 
May  at  once  recognized  the  man  to  be  Jane's  new 
husband. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  have  run  my  horse  thirty 
miles  to  day  in  order  to  procure  a  lawyer  to  have 
you  and  your  brother,  Ward  Montroville,  arrested 
for  cheating  my  wife's  children  out  of  their  prop- 
erty." 

May  being  all  alone,  and  knowing  the  man  to  be 
a  very  quarrelsome  person,  and  seeing  that  he  was 
very  much  under  the  influence  of  liquor,  thought 
it  best  to  say  but  little.  He,  as  all  drunken  men 
do,  knew  that  he  had  very  wrongfully  cheated  his 
wife's  children  by  marrying  her,  and  then  squan- 
dering money  which  should  have  been  used  for 
their  comfort.  He  knew  that  he  had  done  wrong, 
and,  of  course,  supposed  others  to  have  done  the 
same. 

"  I  think  Lulu  is  a  very  lovely  girl.  1  could  just 
take  her  in  my  arms  and  fold  her  to  my  heart," 
said  he,  "  she  is  so  young  and  pure  and  sweet. 
But  then,  I  suppose  it  would  not  look  very  well 


Suffering  Millions.  205 

for  me  so  to  do,  as  I  am  only  her  mother's  hus- 
band." 

At  this  remark  May  felt  the  blood  mount  to  her 
face.  What,  thought  she,  could  I  stand  it  to  see 
my  beautiful  little  niece  folded  in  the  arms  of  such 
a  brutal  character  as  he  ?  No,  indeed,  she  had 
rather  see  the  pure,  innocent  girl  laid  in  her  grave. 

"Well,"  said  the  dissipated  fellow,  "you  and 
your  brother  had  better  be  careful  how  you  use 
the  children's   property,   or   you   will   get  your 
selves  into  trouble." 

Now  the  property  he  spoke  of  was  some  that  had 
fallen  to  them  from  their  Grandfather  Montroville, 
and  nothing  that  he  or  Jane  had  ever  worked  to 
earn.  Nevertheless,  I  suppose,  he  and  she  were 
anxious  that  in  some  way  they  might  get  hold  of 
it,  to  squander  it  also,  as  they  had  the  other. 

After  abusing  May  as  much  as  he  was  capable 
of  doing,  he  left. 

When  he  got  home  Jane  said,  "  Did  you  get  a 
lawyer?" 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  you  just  bet  I  tried." 

"  What  did  he  say '?" 

"  Oh,  the  lawyer  said  I  had  better  mind  my  own 
business." 

"  Business  ! "  said  Jane, "  well,  is  it  not  your  busi- 
ness ? " 

•k  The  lawyer  said  neither  you  nor  I  were  capable 
of  taking  care  of  the  children,  and  that  we  had 
better  let  the  Montrovilles  alone,  because  the 
property  belonged  to  them  anyway." 


206  Suffering  Millions. 

"That  is  just  the  way  everybody  makes  fools  of 
themselves  about  those  good- for  nothing  brats  of 
mine,"  said  Jane. 

"  Well,  old  woman,  you  haint  got  sense  enough 
to  take  care  of  them.  Lulu  knows  more  in  one 
minute  than  you  ever  knew  in  your  life;  besides 
she  is  sweet  and  young  and  pretty." 

"  Well,"  said  Jane,  "you  are  just  as  big  a  fool 
as  the  rest.  You  are  in  love  with  Lulu." 

"  Well,  she  is  nice,  and  I  love  her,  too.  If  you 
were  half  as  nice  I  might  think  a  little  something 
of  you." 

"  Yes,  that  is  all  you  think  of  me.  It  was  my 
money  you  married." 

"  Yes,  it  was,  and  just  as  soon  as  it  is  gone  I  am 
going  to  sea.  You  know  I  am  an  old  tar,  don't 
you  ?" 

"  Tar  or  no  tar  I  hope  you  will  get  drowned." 

"Well,"  said  he,  "it  ain't  the  first  old  fool  I 
married  just  in  order  to  get  a  little  spending 
money  to  buy  my  rum.  You  might  have  known 
better  than  to  marry  a  stranger.  I  think  just  as 
the  lawyer  thought  about  you.  He  said  an  old 
woman  like  you  ought  not  to  have  been  so  hot  to 
get  married,  and  that  the  children's  father  was  a 
nice  man,  and  I  believe  it,  because  they  are  nice 
children,  and  one  thing  sure,  I  do  know,  they  never 
took  that  after  you." 

"  You  poor  old  black  fool,"  if  I  was  a  man  I 
would  whip  you  to  within  an  inch  of  your  life." 


Suffering  Millions.  207 

u  You  had  better  bake  some  more  bread,"  said 
he,  u  I  tell  you,  you  are  a  good  cook." 

"  Well,  I  am  as  good  a  cook  as  you  are  a  farm- 
er." 

"  See  here,  old  woman,  if  you  expect  me  to 
farm  you  will  be  mistaken.  You  know  there  is  a 
little  of  your  money  left,  when  that  is  gone  I  will 
quit  this  place  to  plow  the  deep  blue  sea." 

"  Well,"  said  Jane,  "  the  sooner  the  better,  then 
I  can  marry  some  one  else." 

"Oh,  yes;  there  is  old  Oummings,  you  can 
marry  him,  he  is  running  after  you  every  time  I'm 
away  from  the  house." 

"  Well,"  said  Jane,  u  it  is  none  of  your  business 
who  runs  after  me.  He  is  just  as  good  as  you  are." 

u  Well,  old  woman,  it  is  a  great  blessing  for  your 
daughter  that  you  have  not  the  raising  of  her." 

"  I  don't  care  for  you  nor  my  daughter  either." 
I  intend  to  have  a  good  time,  daughter  or  no 
daughter." 

"I  have  been  around  the  world  a  good  deal,  and 
have  seen  many  mothers,  but  you  beat  the  devil. 
You  care  no  more  for  your  daughter  than  you 
would  were  she  a  dog.  One  thing  I  do  know,  if  I 
am  an  old  tar,  she  is  a  fine  girl." 

"  You  had  better  stop  praising  Lulu,"  said  Jane, 
UI  won't  stand  it.  Lulu  is  no  better  than  I  am. 
May  makes  a  big  fool  of  Lulu,  and  sends  her  to 
school  all  of  the  time.  She  is  trying  to  make  a 
big  lady  of  her,  and  wants  to  get  her  a  piano.  She 


208  Suffering  Millions. 

had  better  buy  her  a  washboard  and  let  her  play 
music  on  that." 

"  Well,  old  woman,  if  she  could  make  as  good 
use  of  a  washboard  as  you  do  it  would  pay.  Your 
washing  looks  like  you  had  rinsed  your  clothes  in 
coffee." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  break  my  back  rubbing  your 
clothes,"  said  Jane. 

"  No,  indeed,  old  woman,  I  know  you  don't. 
You  have  washed  me  two  shirts  in  six  months." 

"  Hello?  what  is  that  noise  I  hear?"  said  a  pas- 
ser-by to  a  companion.  "  Oh,  it's  Jane  and  her 
husband  fighting.  You  see  he  is  drunk,  and  then 
Jane  takes  the  pains  to  get  up  a  quarrel  with 
him."  u  She  had  better  let  him  alone  when  he  is 
drunk."  "That  would  not  be  Jane.  You  see,  she 
delights  to  get  up  a  fuss  as  soon  as  he  comes  home, 
which  always  ends  in  a  fight. 


Suffering  Millions.  209 


CHAPTER  XXIII, 


As  I  had  been  called  away  to  spend  some  time 
in  a  different  country,  I  knew  but  little  of  the 
changes  of  the  neighborhood  where  the  Montro- 
ville's  lived.  When  I  returned  I  at  once  went  to 
visit  May.  Lulu  had  grown  to  be  a  fine  girl.  In 
the  evening  May  invited  us  into  the  parlor. 

"  Oh,"  said  I,  "  did  Lulu's  mother  ever  get  her  a 
musical  instrument  as  her  brother  wished  her  to  at 
the  time  she  fell  heir  to  her  money  ? " 

"  No,  indeed,  she  did  not.  But  just  as  soon  as  I 
felt  able  I  bought  her  a  piano.  You  know  she  has 
a  talent  for  music,  and  I  believe  we  should  im- 
prove the  gifts  that  God  has  given  us." 

"Well,  Lulu,"  said  I,  "can't  you  play  some  for 
me  ? "  She  took  her  seat  at  the  piano,  and  as  her 
skillful  fingers  swept  the  keys  of  the  instrument, 
playing  several  pieces  of  music,  she  began  one  of 
the  sainted  Longfellow's  pieces  known  as  "The 
Bridge,"  and  as  her  pure,  sweet  voice  floated 
through  the  room,  I  could  not  help  remarking  that 
it  seemed  almost  impossible  that  this  was  the  little 
girl  I  knew  before  I  went  away. 

"Lulu  has  been  a  very  good  girl," said  her  Aunt 
May.    "  It  has  been  my  greatest  desire  to  try  and 
do  right  by  her." 
14 


210  Suffering  Millions. 

"Well,  May,  you  have  had  to  raise  her  sur- 
rounded by  many  difficulties." 

"  Yes,  and  these  have  made  her  still  dearer  to 
me.  It  is  ten  times  as  hard  to  raise  a  child  who 
has  other  relatives  living." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is." 

"  You  know  if  you  do  too  much  for  them  some- 
body will  find  fault.  If  you  do  too  little,  then 
there  will  be  fault  found  with  you.  "  But,"  said 
May,  "I  will  do  as  near  right  as  I  possibly  can.  I 
I  am  only  human,  no  doubt  I  shall  make  many 
mistakes,  but  I  will  trust  the  Allwise  Hand  to 
direct  me. 


One  cold  stormy  evening  in  the  dead  of  winter, 
as  I  happened  to  be  going  a  short  distance  to  a 
friend's  house,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  to  meet 
May  hurrying  along,  apparently  in  great  agitation. 

" Now  where  are  you  going?"  said  I. 

"  Have  you  not  heard,"  said  May,  "  that  Jane's 
husband  is  very  sick  and  not  expected  to  live  ?  " 

"  Now,  May,"  said  I,  "  you  are  not  able  to  go 
there ;  you  are  nearly  sick  yourself? " 

"  Oh,  I  guess  I  can  stand  it." 

"  Well,  you  may  stand  it,  and  jrou  may  not. 
Why  did  your  husband  allow  you  to  go?  " 

"  I  just  heard  he  was  sick.  My  husband  was 
away,  and  I  knew  something  must  be  done  for  the 
poor  man." 

"  I  think  they  have  abused  you  enough,  and  that 


Suffering  Millions.  211 

you  have  long  ago  cleared  your  skirts  of  any  duty 
toward  them.  He  is  nothing  to  you." 

u  He  is  my  dear  Lulu's  mother's  husband." 

"  Why  did  you  not  send  Lulu  ? " 

"  I  could  not  have  done  that  for  anything.  You 
know  Lulu  takes  cold  so  easily,  and  her  lungs  are 
weak.  I  never  dare  to  let  her  expose  herself  one 
bit." 

"  I  know  she  is  a  frail  girl,  but  May,  you  are  not 
well." 

u  Well,  or  not  well,"  replied  May,  u  I  must  go." 

"  If  you  really  must  go,  I  will  go  with  you,  as  it 
is  getting  dark."  Therefore  we  hastened  to  the 
dismal  abode.  As  we  entered  the  house  the  room 
was  dark  and  dismal.  May  stepped  to  the  bedside 
of  the  poor  dying  man.  He  was  sitting  care- 
lessly propped  up  in  his  bed,  unable  to  lie  down  on 
account  of  shortness  of  breath. 

''I  just  heard,"  said  May,  "that  you  were  sick, 
and  have  come  to  see  how  you  are." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  came,"  said  the  poor  man, 
extending  his  poor  hand,  already  turning  black 
from  putrification  of  excessive  drink. 

"  I  have  brought  you  some  fruits,  thinking  per- 
haps you  might  be  able  to  eat  a  little,"  said  May. 

"  I  cannot  eat  now,"  said  the  poor  fellow. 

We  at  once  saw  that  the  poor  wretched  man's 
days  were  nearly  numbered.  May,  after  a  little 
hesitation,  held  up  to  the  dying  man  the  bible ; 
and  spoke  of  the  consolation  of  its  doctrine. 


212  Suffering  Millions. 

"Ah!  yes,"  said  the  poor  man,  "my  life  has 
been  a  hard  one.  I've  ploughed  the  waves  of 
both  ocean  and  sea,  and  hugged  the  shore  and 
embarked  and  prepared  for  storm.  I  have  seen 
the  whitecaps  roll  mountains  high.  I  have  felt 
ground  swells  and  got  through  alright,  but  one 
great  thing  1  have  neglected.  Ah,  yes,  I  have 
hardly  known  of  such  a  book  all  my  life,  and  my 
associates  have  been  so  rough.  But  once  while 
sick  of  a  fever  in  a  hospital  away  off  the  coast  of 
South  America,  did  a  noble  Christian  missionary 
woman  give  me  the  blessed  bible  to  read.  I  there 
found  out  it  was  a  good  book,  yes,  the  book  of 
books.  But  you  see  my  early  instruction,  my 
wicked  associates,  my  dissipated  habits,  I  could 
not  forget.  Oh  those  missionary  women,  may 
God  bless  their  work;  they  are  good  and  noble 
women.  Before  I  saw  them  I  had  lost  confidenc  e 
in  woman  kind.  You  see  the  women  that  flocked 
around  the  wharfs  where  we  landed  were  women 
of  the  lowest  character.  But,  oh,  those  good  no- 
ble women.  If  I  had  only  heeded  their  advice. 
But  now  it  is  too  late ;  too  late."  As  the  poor 
man's  feeble  voice  died  away,  I  took  notice  of  the 
dark  and  dismal  surroundings.  There  sat  Jane, 
hair  uncombed,  dress  untidy.  The  house  was 
dirty  and  very  illy  kept.  It  seemed  as  if  demons 
were  in  the  room. 

The  next  night  the  poor  man  died.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  other  way,  but  that  I  should  re- 


Suffering  Millions. 

main  alone  with  Jane  on  the  day  the  poor  man 
lay  a  corpse  in  the  house. 

"  Well,"  said  Jane,  "  I  am  glad  he  is  dead.  Now 
perhaps  I  can  have  some  comfort." 

"  Why,  Jane,"  said  I,  "  what  are  you  talking 
about  ? " 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  I  am  talking  about  just  what 
I  mean.  I  am  glad  he  is  dead." 

"  Well,  Jane,  will  you  marry  the  next  man  who 
comes  along?" 

"  I  shall  do  as  I  like  about  that,"  said  Jane. 


214  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XXIV, 


It  had  been  some  fifteen  or  sixteen  years 
since  the  school  house  I  have  before  spoken  of 
was  built,  and  that  had  ever  since  been  used 
as  a  house  for  the  worship  of  God.  Now  that  the 
country  had  become  more  improved,  and  things 
had  become  more  modern,  it  was  thought  best  to 
build  a  church.  There  were  a  few  faithful  chris- 
tians  that  had  stood  together  through  many  dark 
days  of  trial  and  persecution.  But  nevertheless, 
they  stood  heart  and  hand  together,  and  said  we 
must  have  a  church  where  we  can  worship  God 
together,  where  none  can  molest  or  make  afraid. 

Therefore  they  appointed  a  time  to  meet,  and 
talk  the  matter  over,  and  appoint  trustees.  Ward 
Montroville  who  was  among  the  leading  members 
of  the  church,  now  came  forth,  as  he  always  did 
in  any  good  enterprise,  and  said,  "  Yes,  we  must 
have  a  church.  I  will  stand  an  equal  amount  with 
any  of  our  brethren."  As  Ward  was  the  young-, 
est  of  the  society  his  remarks  pleased  the  oldest 
and  one  of  the  most  wealthy  of  the  members.  "  I 
too,"  said  he,  "  will  stand  an  equal  share." 

"  I  will  do  the  same,"  said  another.  "And  I," 
said  another.  At  the  meeting  all  of  the  necessary 
arrangements  were  made  for  building  the  church. 


Suffering  Millions,  215 

"  Well,"  said  May's  husband  to  her  after  the 
meeting,  where  do  you  think  they  want  to  locate 
the  church  ?" 

"  I  suppose  they  have  chosen  our  place,  as  it  is 
about  the  center  of  the  neighborhood,  and  near 
the  school  house." 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "they  would  like  to  build  it  on 
the  corner  east  of  our  house,  near  the  cross  roads." 

"  That  would  be  a  very  pretty  place,"  said  May, 
"  but  I  very  much  fear  it  would  make  trouble. 
You  know  our  neighbors  who  live  just  across  the 
road,  one  on  one  corner  and  the  other  on  the  other 
corner,  do  not  belong  to  a  church.  I  very  much 
fear  they  will  object." 

"  Yes,"  said  LaMarr,  "  they  do.  As  I  was  com- 
ing home,  I  met  Milton,  and  never  once  thought 
but  what  he  would  be  glad  to  have  the  church 
there,  and  I  told  him  about  it.  I  saw  he  did  not 
like  it.  He  said  if  we  did,  he  would  build  a  danc- 
ing hall  on  the  other  corner." 

"  Just  as  I  expected,"  said  May. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  as  I  happened  to  be  at  May's 
house,  "you  have  a  right  to  build  the  church 
where  you  like." 

"But,"  said  May,  "we  would  not  like  to  cause 
hard  feelings  about  it.  You  know,  in  Job's  time, 
there  was  a  day  when  the  sons  of  God  came  to 
present  themselves  before  the  Lord,  and  Satan 
came  also  among  them,  Job  chap.  1  v.  6.  I  sup- 
pose now  he  has  begun  his  work,  you  know  he 


216  Suffering  Millions. 

always  does  just  as  soon  as  he  thinks  there  is  a 
chance  for  some  good  to  be  accomplished." 

And  sure  enough  he  went  around  from  heart  to 
heart,  and  stirred  up  the  people.  Some  said,  that 
is  the  right  place  for  the  church,  others  said,  "  No, 
we  will  not  have  it  there."  One  of  the  leading 
members  said,  "  If  we  cannot  locate  the  church 
near  the  corners,  where  it  should  be,  I  shall  not 
give  one  cent  towards  it."  After  Satan  had  done 
all  in  his  power  to  agitate  the  minds  of  the  people, 
causing  much  trouble  and  dissatisfaction,  some- 
one said,  we  will  appoint  a  committee  to  whom 
we  will  leave  the  matter  of  locating  the  place  for 
the  church,  then  we  must  be  willing  to  abide  by 
their  decision. 

Said  one  of  the  leading  members  of  the  com- 
mittee, u  I  thought  I  would  come  early  so  we 
could  talk  over  the  matter  of  the  location  of  the 
churoh.  I  am  very  much  in  favor  of  having  it 
near  the  cross-road,  what  do  you  think?"  said  he, 
addressing  May. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  u  I,  too,  think  that  a  pretty 
place,  but  you  know  it  would  cause  trouble.  There 
is  a  very  pretty  and  sightly  location  west  of  the 
house,  why  not  have  it  there?" 

u  We  can  never  bear  the  idea,"  said  he,  "  of 
having  it  in  any  place  but  the  one  first  spoken  of." 

"Then,"  said  May,  "let  us  commit  it  to  the 
Lord.  '  Commit  thy  ways  unto  the  Lord,  and  He 
will  direct  thy  path.' " 


Suffering  Millions.  217 

"  I  will  go  up  and  look  at  this  place  you  speak 
of  and  see  about  it."  In  a  short  time  he  returned, 
his  face  all  aglow.  Said  he,  "The  moment  1 
stepped  on  the  ground  something  seemed  to 
impress  me  that  it  was  the  proper  place  for  the 
church."  The  committee  were  not  long  in  decid- 
ing the  matter,  and  the  church  was  there  located. 
Nevertheless  there  were  a  few  persons  who  had 
never  intended  to  give  one  cent,  said,  "  If  you  had 
built  the  church  at  the  corners  we  would  have 
given  you  one  or  two  hundred  dollars."  And  yet 
to-day  there  stands  a  beautiful  brick  church  on 
this  sightly  location,  while  the  poor  man  who  said 
he  would  build  the  dancing  hall  sleeps  in  the 
silent  grave.  The  Lord's  ways  are  above  our  ways 
and  his  thoughts  are  above  our  thoughts. 

October  has  come  and  among  the  forests  flame 
out  the  scarlet  branches  of  the  maple,  and  the 
beech  groves  are  arrayed  in  gold,  through  which 
the  sunlight  streams  in  subdued  richness,  swathing 
in  purple  mists  the  rainbow  brightness  of  the  for- 
ests, blending  their  colors  into  wondrous  harmonies 
of  splendor. 

"  Well,"  said  one  of  the  trustees, "  after  so  many 
days  of  toil  and  anxiety  the  church  is  at  last  com- 
pleted. When  shall  we  have  it  dedicated  ?" 

Ward  Montroville  replied,  "  We  are  having  such 
fine  autumn  weather,  I  think  the  sooner  the 
better." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  he,  "  we  will  have  it  dedi- 
cated on  next  Thursday,  if  that  time  suits." 


218  Suffering  Millions. 

"  I  think  the  time  very  appropriate,"  said  Mr. 
D .  "We  will  have  to  make  our  arrange- 
ments, but  I  think  we  can  get  ready  by  that  time. 
Brother  T will  preach  the  dedicatory  ser- 
mon." 

Said  another  of  the  trustees,  "  May  the  blessing 
of  the  Lord  still  continue  with  us." 

In  the  morning  on  the  day  of  the  dedication  of 
the  beautiful  little  church,  Ward,  May,  and  I  went 
into  the  edifice  for  the  purpose  of  making  some 
necessary  arrangements  for  beautifying  it  with 
bouquets  of  flowers.  It  was  one  of  those  lovely 
days  about  the  middle  of  autumn,  that  seems  to 
fill  the  soul  with  awe  and  reverence.  Ward  had 
arisen  with  the  morning  sun  and  went  forth  to 
meditate.  He  had  labored  hard  to  accomplish  the 
great  task  of  building  this  house  for  the  worship 
of  God.  Many  times  when  discouragements  would 
arise,  he  felt,  like  Peter  of  old,  to  cry  out,  k'Save, 
Lord,  or  we  perish,"  but  this  morning  he  came  in 
with  his  mind  softened  and  glowing.  The  trance- 
like  calm  of  earth  found  a  solemn  answer  within 
him.  His  language  was,  "  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my 
soul.  O,  Lord,  my  God,  thou  art  very  great;  thou 
art  clothed  with  honor  and  majesty ;  who  cover- 
est  thyself  with  light  as  with  a  garment;  who 
layeth  the  beams  of  his  chambers  in  the  waters  ; 
who  maketh  the  clouds  his  chariots ;  who  walketh 
upon  the  wings  of  the  wind.  The  trees  of  the 
Lord  are  full  of  sap;  the  cedars  of  Lebanon, 


Suffering  Millions.  219 

which  he  hath  planted,  where  the  birds  make  their 
nests;  as  for  the  stork,  the  fir  trees  are  her  house. 
O  Lord,  how  manifold  are  thy  works !  in  wisdom 
hast  thou  made  them  all." 

"  I  have  longed  to  see  this  day,  the  day  on  which 
we  dedicate  this  house  to  the  Lord." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "and  now  it  seems  that  all  things 
are  ready.  I  am  so  glad  it  is  such  a  beautiful 
day."  May  was  just  arranging  a  bouquet  of  dahl- 
ias, fall  ro'ses  and  some  other  flowers,  when  in 
walked  Lulu.  Her  form  seemed  slight  and  frail ; 
her  cheeks  were  tinted  with  the  rose  ;  her  appear- 
ance one  might  fancy  was  like  unto  a  fairy  or  a 
sylph.  She  glided  up  the  aisle  and  took  her  seat 
at  the  organ  and  unexpectedly  to  us  her  angelic, 
childlike  voice  floated  through  the  room.  She 
sang  the  grand  old  doxology  : 

Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow, 
Praise  him,  all  creatures  here  below  ; 
Praise  him  above,  ye  heavenly  hosts, 
Praise  father,  son,  and  holy  ghost. 

As  the  echo  of  her  voice  resounded  in  the  room 
and  then  died  away,  my  soul  caught  the  fire,  a 
new  baptism  of  love  inspired  my  heart.  Ward 
clasped  his  hands,  and  looked  away  to  the  fount 
from  which  all  blessings  flow.  He  fairly  shouted 
glory  !  The  very  walls  seemed  to  shout  the  praises 
of  God.  It  was  a  grand,  sublime  moment.  I  now 
look  to  that  morning,  although  many  years  have 
passed  since  then,  as  one  of  the  bright  spots  in  my 


220  Suffering  Millions. 

life.      The  Rev.  T ,  LL.  D.,  preached  from 

Hebrew  6 :  5.  Subject,  "  The  power  of  the  world 
to  come,"  and  gave  a  very  able  address.  Lulu 
Montroville  presided  at  the  organ.  The  singing 
was  subdued  and  pleasant.  The  brethren  and  sis- 
ters were  very  attentive  to  each  other.  I  felt  glad 
that  they  were  so  well  situated.  I  consider  their 
house  of  worship  a  perfect  little  gem  of  beauty. 

"  Together  let  us  sweetly  live, 

Together  let  us  die  ; 
And  each  a  starry  crown  receive, 
And  reign  above  the  sky. 


Suffering  Millions.  221 


CHAPTER  XXV, 


May  and  her  husband  went  to  a  western  city  to 
visit  LeMarr's  folks.  They  had  a  delightful  time. 
It  was  somewhat  of  a  manufacturing  town  and  in  it 
there  were  large  stone  quarries.  These  interested 
May  as  she  had  never  before  seen  any.  After 
spending  a  number  of  days  taking  in  many  fine 
sights,  viewing  the  beautiful  prairies,  they  re- 
turned to  Chicago.  Here  they  visited  the  exposi- 
tion, the  fair,  and  many  other  things  of  note. 
While  in  the  city  they  had  their  photographs 
taken.  As  May's  husband  was  to  remain  in  the 
city  some  weeks,  they  bade  each  other  good-bye, 
May  returning  home  to  see  how  Lulu  and  the 
affairs  at  home  were  getting  along.  Lulu  had 
taken  the  very  best  kind  of  care  of  things  at  home, 
having  the  house  neat  and  tidy.  I  thought  as  May 
and  Lulu  were  alone  I  would  stay  with  them  a  part 
of  the  time.  One  day  May  said  to  Lulu,  "  as  to- 
day is  the  fair  in  town,  we  will  go.  It  may  be  that 
our  pictures  have  come.  I  hope  they  have,  for  I 
want  to  see  if  they  are  good.  We  will  get  the 
horse  and  buggy  and  start  at  once. 

As  soon  as  we  arrived  in  town,  May  said,  "  come, 
we  will  go  to  the  postoffice."  We  all  went  in  and 
May  received  the  pictures  and  a  letter  from  her 


222  Suffering  Millions. 

husband.  We  were  all  delighted  with  the  pictures, 
especially  Mr.  LeMarr's,  which  was  very  fine.  As 
we  were  passing  out  of  the  door,  a  man  stepped 
up  to  May  and  asked :  u  Were  you  not  Miss  Mon- 
troville?"  "That  was  my  maiden  name,"  said 
May.  She  then  looked  at  the  man  and  recognized 
William  Bryant,  the  one  who  had  caused  her  so 
much  trouble  when  only  a  girl  of  seventeen.  She 
now  looked  with  disdain  upon  him.  A  man  who 
would  forsake  the  girl  he  truly  loved  to  marry  one 
who  was  wealthy.  The  love  she  once  bore  for  him 
had  now  changed  into  hatred.  "  I  hear  you  had 
the  misfortune  to  lose  your  wife,"  said  May. 
''  Yes,"  said  Bryant.  "  You  look  to  me,"  said  he, 
"  as  you  did  many  years  ago." 

"  Do  I  ?"  said  May.  "You  are  so  changed  I  would 
not  have  recognized  you  if  you  had  not  spoken  to 
me." 

"  I  have  met  JTOU  before,"  said  the  man,  "  but  as 
you  did  not  know  me  I  did  not  make  myself 
known." 

"  How  old  you  look  and  how  changed  you  are," 
said  May. 

"  I  have  had  much  sorrow.  My  wife's  health 
has  always  been  poor,  she  lingered  with  consump- 
tion for  months  and  months." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  you  have  had  so  much 
trouble."  But  I  could  see  by  the  flash  of  May's 
dark  eyes  that  it  was  hard  to  keep  her  fiery  souths 
ern  disposition  down.  She  could  not  help  looking 


Suffering  Millions.  223 

with  contempt  upon  a  man  who  had  made  gold  his 
idol. — James,  5  chap.,  3  v.:  u  Your  gold  and  silver 
is  cankered ;  and  the  rust  of  them  shall  be  a  wit- 
ness against  you,  and  shall  eat  your  flesh  as  it  were 
fire." 

"  1  have  a  pleasant  home  and  a  kind  husband," 
said  May."  Just  then  May  happened  to  think  of 
her  husband's  picture  that  she  had  just  received. 
"  Oh  yes ! "  said  she,  "  here  is  my  husband's  pic- 
ture, you  might  like  to  see  it." 

I  saw  by  the  haggard  look  of  the  man  that  he 
could  hardly  bear  to  look  at  it,  as  May's  husband 
was  a  better  looking  man  now  than  he.  I  also 
read  in  his  looks  that  he  saw  now  his  mistake  in 
marrying  a  woman  much  older  than  himself,  and 
a  woman  he  never  loved,  simply  because  she  had 
wealth.  May  had  retained  her  looks,  though  never 
very  handsome  when  a  girl.  If  anything  she  made 
a  better  looking  woman  than  a  girl.  William  Bry- 
ant presented  indeed  a  sad,  pitiful  and  unhappy 
appearance,  a  wreck  of  humanity.  May  seemed 
anxious  to  leave  his  presence,  we  therefore  passed 
down  the  street  leaving  him  to  his  own  sad  reflec- 
tions. 

"  Why !  Aunt  May,  how  could  you  treat  that 
poor  man  so  ?  I  felt  sorry  for  him.  I  never  saw 
you  treat  any  one  so  coldly  before,"  said  Lulu. 

"  Never  mind,  Lulu,  perhaps  I  had  a  reason  for 
treating  him  as  I  did."  As  soon  as  I  recognized 
his  name  the  memory  of  the  past  came  back  to 


224  Suffering  Millions. 

me.  I  well  remembered  when  May  was  only  a 
young  girl  and  this  man  had  sought  and  won  her 
heart;  and  she,  little  dreaming  of  the  sorrow  and 
pain  he  would  cause  her,  had  placed  her  entire 
affections  upon  him.  tie  had  sought  her  company 
in  halls  of  mirth  and  in  quiet  walks  amid  shady 
groves.  He  had  feasted  upon  her  society,  keeping 
her  from  the  company  of  others  who  no  doubt 
would  have  been  true  to  her,  and  then  because  she 
had  not  wealth,  leaving  her  for  another  simply 
because  this  other  one  had  gold.  "  You  have  for- 
gotten all  the  love  you  ever  had  for  this  man," 
said  I. 

"  Yes,"  replied  May,  "  1  only  feel  contempt  for 
him.  I  do  not  possess  sufficient  charity  to  respect 
a  person  of  so  little  principle.  I  well  remember 
when  I  took  his  picture,  after  I  had  heard  that  he 
had  married  another,  took  a  last  farewell  look  and 
cast  it  into  the  fire.  With  it  I  cast  the  love  I  felt 
for  him.  I  came  near  also  casting  my  confidence 
in  humanity,  and  also  came  near  losing  my  faith 
in  God.  Oh  !  I  was  so  impulsive,  I  could  hardly 
recover  from  the  shock  it  gave  me.  I  said  to  my- 
self I  am  too  noble  to  keep  a  married  man's  pic- 
ture in  my  possession,  but  you  remember  it  nearly 
took  my  life." 

"  Yes,  I  do,  and  when  you  were  showing  him 
your  husband's  picture  1  could  not  help  thinking 
of  it,  and  also  I  thought  that  after  all,  your  path- 
way had  been  less  strewn  with  thorns  than  his. 


Suffering  Millions.  225 

'All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
serve  the  Lord.' " 

"  That  is  so.  I  have  often  heard  from  him  but  I 
always  heard  that  he  was  surrounded  by  sorrow. 
His  wife's  money  did  not  do  him  much  good  after 
all.  No  wonder  he  looks  so  old  and  haggard.  How 
time  passes!  It  has  been  seventeen  years  since  I 
became  acquainted  with  him.  I  was  then  just 
seventeen.  I  now  am  thirty-four." 

"  Now  May,  don't  you  see  God's  plans  are  true  ? 
When  you  cast  his  picture  into  the  fire,  noble  girl 
that  you  were,  too  brave,  too  noble  to  keep  in  your 
possession  the  picture  of  a  man  you  then  had  no 
right  to  idolize,  although  ic  nearly  took  your  life, 
you  were  then  so  sad  and  lonely.  But  to-day,  after 
the  flight  of  many,  many  years,  you  meet  him 
again.  You  now  are  happy,  while  he  is  sad ;  you 
have  a  pleasant  home,  surrounded  by  warm 
friends,  while  his  home  is  dismal  and  lonely.  No 
doubt  if  you  had  kept  his  memory  in  your  heart, 
and  mourned  over  it,  it  would  not  have  been  as 
well  for  you.  You  did  the  very  best  you  could  to 
forget  the  past,  although  such  things  are  not  as 
easily  forgotten  as  one  might  think.  But  it  is  al- 
ways best  to  look  on  the  bright  side'." 

"  Well,"  said  May,  "I  can  not  complain.  I  am 
now  very  glad  that  he  preferred  gold  instead  of  me ; 
have  I  not  a  right  to  be  ?" 

Lulu,  after  completing  the  district  school,  spent 
some  time  at  one  of  the  leading  colleges  of  the 


226  Suffering  Millions. 

State,  and  then  began  teaching  school.  The  first 
three  or  four  terms  of  school  she  taught  in  her 
own  district  where  she  had  been  accustomed  to  go 
to  school.  "  I  think,  May,  you  should  be  very  glad 
indeed  of  your  success  in  helping  Lulu  to  get  an 
education." 

"  Y~es,  indeed  I  am.  Lulu  has  improved  her 
time  in  the  best  possible  way  she  could." 

"  I  do  believe  you  have  done  all  in  your  power 
to  help  Lulu." 

"  Well,  yes,  I  have  done  what  I  could,  but  had 
we  been  better  able  to  afford  it,  I  might  have  done 
more.  Sometimes  the  way  seemed  very  dark,  I 
have  so  felt  my  inability  to  instruct  her  as  I  should. 
You  know  humanity  is  weak,  no  doubt  often  I 
have  set  wrong  examples  before  her,  yet  it  has 
been  my  prayer  to  God  that  she  might  be  a  good 
and  pure  woman." 


Suffering  Millions.  227 


CHAPTER  XXVI, 


Lulu  did  remarkably  well  as  instructor  of  the 
young,  being  only  as  you  might  say  a  scholar  her- 
self, teaching  the  very  scholars  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  study  and  play  with.  Yet  her 
noble  and  commanding  way  demanded  their  re- 
spect. They  all  loved  the  brave  girl.  She  did  so 
well,  and  the  scholars  made  such  advancement 
that  she  soon  gained  a  reputation  of  being  one  of 
the  finest  instructors  in  the  whole  country  where 
she  lived.  The  officers  of  the  village  high  school, 
seeing  and  hearing  so  much  said  of  her,  as  one  of 
the  best  teachers  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  noble 
and  pure  girls  in  the  entire  country,  engaged  her 
services  and  placed  her  as  an  instructor  in  the 
high  school  as  preceptress.  In  the  high  school 
there  were  fourteen  departments.  The  teacher 
in  one  of  the  departments  under  her  was  the 
daughter  of  a  merchant,  the  other  of  a  clergyman ; 
both  were  girls  much  older  than  she,  who  had 
been  raised  with  a  father  and  mother's  tender 
love.  I  fairly  trembled  for  Lulu  to  be  placed  in 
such  an  important  position,  but  the  noble  girl 
stepped  into  the  place  with  the  grace  of  a  queen. 
The  first  day  of  the  school  the  officers  met,  no 
doubt  anxious  to  see  how  this  young  girl  would 


228  Suffering  Millions. 

face  her  situation.  They  did  indeed  feel  proud, 
noble  men,  as  they  were,  to  see  how  well  and 
nobly  she  performed  her  task.  They  looked  into 
her  handsome,  girlish  face  and  saw  within  those 
expressive  eyes  a  gem  of  earth,  pure,  and  sweet, 
yet  noble  and  commanding,  and  as  Dickens  ex- 
presses it:  "Her  love  was  the  law  of  the  school." 
She  succeeded  beyond  all  expectation,  and  so 
gracefully,  so  bravely  did  her  work  that  everyone 
rejoiced.  But  as  the  evil  one  always  has  to  do  his 
work,  this  was  too  much  for  him  to  stand,  so  as 
cunningly  as  he  beguiled  Eve  in  the  garden  of 
Eden,  he  now  began  his  work.  Lulu?s  success 
.aroused  the  jealousy  of  the  lower  classes  of  the 
community.  There  dwelt  in  the  neighborhood  a 
family  having  two  sons.  Both  of  these  young 
men  had  tried  to  gain  Lulu's  affections.  This  of 
course  she  could  not  allow,  as  neither  were  men- 
tally her  equal.  They  then  contrived,  as  they 
thought,  a  plan  to  bring  her  to  ruin  and  disgrace. 
They  well  knew  that  Lulu's  mother  was  a  poor, 
weak  and  dissipated,  fallen  woman.  They  there- 
fore went  to  her  mother  and  said:  "Why  do  you 
not  go  and  show  those  high  toned  village  people 
that  they  are  holding  a  young  lady  in  a  position 
who  will  see  her  mother  suffer?  You  apply  to  the 
overseer  of  the  poor  for  help,  and  show  those 
people  what  kind  of  a  daughter  you  have." 

Now  poor  Jane,  too  ignorant  to  understand  their 
vile  intention,  went  to  the  village,  became  intoxi- 


Suffering  Millions.  229 

cated,  went  up  and  down  the  streets  into  dry 
goods  stores,  hotels,  and  other  places  of  business, 
and  proclaimed:  "My  daughter  Lulu,  who  is 
teaching  in  your  high  school,  will  not  take  care  of 
me,  and  I  am  suffering."  Lulu's  mother  was  a 
small  and  very  inferior  looking  person,  and  with 
her  as  with  all  persons  that  gradually  sink  into 
dissipation,  she  presented  a  wild  and  vacant 
stare,  and  was  a  person  who  by  her  looks  would  at 
once  gain  the  sympathy  of  those  who  did  not  know 
her.  She  also  went  to  the  overseer  of  the  poor  and 
said :  '•  I  came  to  see  if  you  will  not  help  me,  as  I 
am  suffering.  My  daughter  Lulu  Montroville  is 
teaching  in  your  high  school,  but  she  will  not  help 
me."  Now  the  gentleman  did  not  understand  the 
position,  and  said,  "I  am  astonished.  Can  this  be 
possible  ?  Is  she  such  a  girl  as  that,  who  would 
let  her  mother  suffer?"  and  with  emphasis, 
stamping  his  foot  on  the  floor,  "  I  will  see  about 
this ;  if  she  is  such  a  young  lady  as  this,  I  will  see 
about  it.  You  say  you  are  suffering  and  she  will 
not  help  you  ? " 

"  No  she  won't,"  said  her  mother.  "  She  dresses 
and  sticks  everything  on  her  own  back,  and  that 
is  all  she  cares  for  me." 

.Poor  Jane  did  not  understand  that  she  was  de- 
stroying her  own  pure  girl's  name;  a  girl  who  was 
as  free  from  guile  as  ever  a  girl  was  in  this  world, 
and  one  who  could  no  more  help  being  her  child 
than  she  could  have  helped  being  the  child  born 


230  Suffering  Millions. 

to  a  king.  Nor  had  Jane  in  any  way  been  a  help 
to  her  own  sweet  girl;  only  bringing  her  into  this 
world,  and  then  possessing  no  faculty  to  take  care 
of  her,  but  cast  her  out  upon  the  mercy  of  a  cold 
and  sinful  world. 

This  news  swept  like  wild  fire  over  the  town. 
"  Can  it  be  possible  our  young  teacher  is  letting 
her  mother  suffer  ? "  Both  the  high  and  the  low 
were  astonished.  As  Lulu  would  pass  up  and 
down  the  street  on  her  way  to  her  school,  and  back 
to  her  boarding  place,  she  would  be  pointed  out  as 
the  girl  who  was  letting  her  mother  suffer.  A  low 
fellow,  standing  with  hands  in  his  pockets,  pipe  in 
his  mouth,  and  hat  on  one  side  of  his  head,  said  as 
Lulu  was  passing :  "  There  she  goes ;  the  gal  that 
is  lettirtg  her  old  marm  that  worked  hard  to  raise 
her,  suffer.  She  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  herself.  I 
know  she  has  a  purty  face,  and  is  plump  and  well 
formed,  but  I  never  heard  of  such  a  disgrace  be- 
fore." 

"  You  !  "  said  a  gentleman  standing  near,  "  had 
better  be  ashamed  of  yourself  for  allowing  your 
vile  lips  to  take  such  a  pure  girl's  name  as  this 
young  lady's  is,  upon  them.  What  have  you  done 
for  your  poor  mother  ? " 

Lulu  had  not  yet  learned  what  her  mother  had 
done,  and,  as  it  was  the  fir^t  week  of  her  school. 
She  was  very  busy  in  getting  it  in  good  running 
order.  A  friend  of  hers,  hearing  about  what  her 
mother  had  done,  thought  it  best  for  Lulu  to  un- 


Suffering  Millions.  231 

derstand  what  she  had  to  face.  This  friend  there- 
fore in  the  best  manner  she  could,  took  Lulu  alone 
and  said,  "Lulu,  I  have  something  I  want  to  tell 
you.  I  know  it  is  very  hard  for  you  to  bear,  but 
nevertheless,  you  will  have  to  bear  the  disgrace." 
Then  her  friend  went  on  and  told  her  what  her 
mother  had  done. 

"How  did  she  take  it?"  I  asked  Lulu's  friend. 

"  Oh !  the  dear  girl's  pure,  sweet  face  looked 
like  the  face  of  an  angel,  and  tears  streamed  over 
her  pure  blanched  cheeks.  "What  am  I  to  do?  " 
said  she.  "Will  I  have  to  give  up  my  school  ? 
How  can  I  face  my  scholars?  What  will  they 
think  of  their  teacher  to  let  her  mother  suffer  ? 
Oh,  dear,  dear!  What  will  I  do?  I  have  tried  in 
every  way  to  do  all  possible  for  my  mother. 
What  a  sad  thing  it  is.  You  know  she  is  not  to 
blame,  poor  woman.  My  uncle,  whom  I  lived  with 
in  the  west,  said  when  she  was  young  that  she  was 
one  of  the  brightest  little  girls  he  ever  knew,  but 
it  is  dissipation  that  has  made  her  so.  Oh,  dear 
me !  I  have  never  known  a  mother's  love." 

"I  know  you  have  not,  dear  girl,  but  never 
mind,  dear  Lulu,  in  the  sweet  by  and  by  you  will 
know  why  you  have  had  to  suffer  this  great  afflic- 
tion. Earth  has  no  sorrow  that  heaven  cannot 
heal." 

"  How,  oh,  how  can  I  face  the  world's  cold 
frown  ? " 

I  looked  upon  the  poor  girl's  frail  form,  tremb- 


232  Suffering  Millions. 

ling  with  grief,  but  could  not  tell  why  a  girl  so 
young,  so  pure,  so  gentle,  should  have  such  sor- 
row. I  said  to  myself,  "  Thy  ways  are  hard  to  un- 
derstand, but  Thy  paths  are  peace." 

The  lower  classes  seemed  to  take  up  the  news 
and  hurl  it  to  the  breeze,  but  the  better  classes, 
the  people  of  mind  and  intelligence  weighed  the 
matter  and  found  out  how  the  thing  stood.  Lulu 
was  upheld.  The  noble  Christian  people  would 
not  see  a  young,  frail,  and  helpless  girl  crushed  by 
willful  slanderers.  Hard  enough  said  they  it  is  for 
this  dear  girl  to  bear  the  sorrow  of  having  such  a 
mother,  without  having  to  stand  such  falsehoods 
as  evil  and  willful  people  circulate.  "  The  words  of 
a  tale-bearer  are  as  wounds,  and  they  go  down  into 
the  innermost  parts  of  the  body."  u  He  that  an- 
swereth  a  matter  before  he  heareth  it,  it  is  folly 
and  shame  unto  him."  "  Death  and  life  are  in  the 
power  of  the  tongue,  and  they  that  love  it  shall 
eat  the  fruit  thereof."  Although  some  seemed 
to  love  to  dwell  upon  the  strain,  "  our  young 
teacher  is  letting  her  mother  suffer,"  but  the  same 
as  ever,  u  resist  the  devil  and  he  will  flee  from 
you." 

Lulu,  brave  and  noble  girl,  met  the  trials  thrown 
around  her  pathway.  Hearing  of  her  trials,  I 
thought  I  would  visit  her  at  her  school.  I  there- 
fore called  at  the  village  and  went  to  the  school 
house  and  found  it  a  large  brick  edifice.  I  knocked 
at  the  door,  and  Lulu  met  me  in  a  graceful  and 


Suffering  Millions.  233 

ladylike  manner.  She  offered  me  a  chair  upon  the 
rostrum,  but  some  way  I  preferred  a  seat  back 
among  the  scholars.  I  at  once  was  well  pleased 
with  the  way  she  conducted  her  school.  Every- 
thing was  in  order.  Wreaths  of  lovely  flowers, 
plucked  with  her  own  hands,  adorned  the  room. 
A  motto,  "God  bless  our  school,"  surrounded  by  a 
wreath  of  clustered  grapes  and  thorns,  bleeding- 
harts,  and  pansies,  painted  with  artistic  taste, 
were  there  to  please  the  eye.  She,  as  ever  where 
else,  made  sunshine  there.  I  had  not  been  in  the 
room  long  before  there  was  another  rap  at  the 
door.  Lulu  stopped  and  opened  the  door.  A  fine 
looking  young  man  entered,  whom  I  recognized  as 
the  principal  of  the  institution,  having  before  met 
him.  He  was  a  noble,  intelligent  young  man. 
He  took  his  seat  upon  the  rostrum,  and  as  I  sat 
opposite  him,  I  read  his  fine  features.  Lulu  glided 
around  the  room  with  seraphic  grace,  her  musical 
voice  swept  with  cadence  through  the  room.  The 
look  of  an  angel  was  on  her  face,  and  the  room 
seemed  to  be  a  hallowed  place.  She  heard  one 
class  after  another  and  the  scholars  seemed  to  un- 
derstand well  their  lessons.  The  young  man's  eyes 
followed  Lulu  about  the  room,  and  his  noble  face 
lighted  up  with  wild  admiration.  I  then  read  in 
his  countenance,  words  his  lips  dare  not  utter. 
Why  should  he  utter  those  words  ?  He  the  son  of 

Hon ,   who   at   that   time   was   running  for 

Governor  of  the  state.     He  who  had  been  cradled 


234  Suffering  Millions. 

in  the  lap  of  luxury,  and  a  graduate  of  one  of  the 
leading  colleges  of  the  state.  She,  the  daughter 
of  sorrow,  dissipation  and  misery ;  she,  whose  face 
had  oft  been  wet  with  tears  she  could  not  repress ; 
she,  who  had  tried  to  raise  a  fallen  mother  from 
the  dust,  and  had  spent  her  wages  to  take  care  of 
that  poor,  dissipated  mother,  who  had  lost  the 
faculty  of  appreciating  what  was  done  for  her. 
"  Oast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters  and  thou  shalt 
find  it  after  many  days."  "  Though  I  walk  through 
the  valley  and  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil, 
for  Thou  art  with  me  ;  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff,  they 
shall  comfort  me."  As  the  young  man  took  his 
leave,  his  remarks  were  words  of  commendation, 
in  regard  to  the  school.  "Well,  Lulu,"  said  I, 
"  you  have  a  fine  school,  and  it  does  me  much 
good  to  see  how  well  you  are  getting  along." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lulu,  "  I  have  much  to  be  thankful 
for." 


"  1  guess,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  I  will  go  and  make 
May  a  visit,  for  I  expect  it  nearly  killed  her  when 
she  heard  what  Jane  had  done."  Upon  arriving 
there  I  said  to  May,  u  how  are  you  getting  along?" 

"  I  am  well ;  but  have  you  heard  how  Jane  has 
been  doing  ?" 

At  this  she  broke  down  weeping,  so  I  really  was 
afraid  her  mind  might  be  effected. 

"  Never  mind,  May,"  said  I,  "  no  doubt  all  will 
come  out  right  yet." 


Suffering  Millions.  235 

"But  how  can  dear,  darling  Lulu  stand  it  to 
have  this  great  disgrace  thrown  upon  her?  Just 
think  of  that  poor  girl  with  that  large  school  on 
her  hands,  and  now  to  face  such  disgrace !" 

"Well,"  said  I,  "it  may  not  hurt  her  as  bad  as 
you  think  it  will." 

"  Yes  it  will,"  said  May.  "  We  have  tried  to  do 
everything  for  Jane  that  we  were  able  to  do,  but 
the  more  we  do  for  her,  the  more  she  expects  us 
to  do.  You  know  many  of  the  people  in  the  vil- 
lage know  nothing  about  her.  We  cannot  blame 
them  for  thinking  very  strangely  about  it.  She 
has  plenty  to  do  with,  besides  if  she  would  go  to 
work  and  stop  gadding  the  streets  and  talking 
about  her  children  she  would  do  much  better.  I 
have  had  so  much  •trouble  with  her  that  I  have 
often  wished  I  could  die." 

"  You  are  discouraged,"  said  I. 

"  Well,  have  I  not  had  enough  trouble  to  dis- 
courage any  one?  I  have  worked  hard  to  raise 
Lulu,  often  denying  myself  of  clothing  in  order  to 
provide  for  her,  and  now  just  in  the  most  impor- 
tant time  of  her  life  to  think  her  own  mother 
would  try  to  do  everything  she  can  against  the 
lovely  girl." 

"  Well  it  is  a  shame.  Of  course  she  does  it  just 
for  spite.  She  is  not  very  responsible,  yet  she 
does  know  enough  to  have  all  of  the  old  tramps 
she  can  get  running  after  her.  Yes,  May,  it  is  too 
bad.  Your  folks  have  had  the  worst  time  with 


236  Suffering  Millions. 

that  woman  of  any  people  I  ever  knew.  If  you 
don't  reap  your  reward  in  heaven,  then  I  can't 
understand  it,  for  surely  you  never  can  on  earth." 

"  I  often  think  I  never  would  take  a  child  that 
has  one  living  relative  again,  but  what  would  be- 
come of  all  of  the  poor  little  orphan  children  that 
have  low  relatives  if  everybody  would  do  in  that 
way  ?  I  had  to  take  darling  Lulu  or  the  dear  girl 
would  have  been  in  her  grave,  as  little  Willie  is." 

"  Well."  said  I,  "  no  doubt  she  would,  but  we 
must  try  and  love  those  who  despitefully  use  us." 

"  I  do  not  care  what  Jane  says  about  me,  but  to 
try  and  disgrace  her  own  lovely  daughter,  now,  as 
she  has  just  been  placed  in  such  a  responsible 
position,  is  more  than  I  am  able  to  stand.  The 
other  day,  as  I  was  passing  down  the  street  in 
T ,  (this  was  the  place  where  Lulu  was  teach- 
ing school),  Mr.  B ,  the  overseer  of  the  poor, 

stopped  me  and  inquired  if  it  could  be  possible 
that  Miss  Montroville's  mother  was  suffering  ?  I 
became  so  much  excited  I  did  not  know  what  to 
say.  I  knew  Jane  had  plenty  and  we  had  told  her 
if  she  needed  anything  to  come  to  us  and  we  would 
get  it  for  her." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  I,  "it  is  just  one  of  her  tricks. 
You  and  her  kind  brother  might  gfve  her  every 
cent  you  both  have,  and  she  would  be  the  same 
careless  person  she  now  is ;  there  is  no  use  of 
caring  anything  about  it,  but  I  realize  because  of 
your  high-strung  organization  and  sensitive  nerves 


Suffering  Millions.  237 

it  is  almost  impossible  for  you  to  stand  it,  and  on 
account  of  your  great  love  for  Lulu  who  is  dearer 
to  you,  I  do  believe,  than  your  own  life." 

"  Yes,  she  is.  I  have  done  just  as  much  for  her 
as  I  could  had  she  been  my  own  child  ;  besides  I 
have  been  blamed  sometimes  because  I  loved  her 
too  much,  and  other  times  because  I  loved  her  too 
little.  I  have  been  found  fault  with  thousands  of 
times  by  Jane  and  her  husband.  I  have  been 
talked  about  by  others  because  I  did  not  do  more 
for  all  of  them;  but  all  this  I  can  stand.  But  oh, 
to  think  of  that  lovely  girl  having  to  bear  all  of 
the  gossip  that  evil  persons  may  cast  upon  her." 

"  It  is  bad  enough,"  said  I,  u  for  a  girl  to  have 
such  a  mother,  but  May,  you  must  try  and  be 
quiet.  It  is  bad  enough,  I  know,  but  you  can't 
stand  it  to  worry  about  it  as  you  do.  Try  and 
look  to  the  One  that  doeth  all  things  well." 


238  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XXVII, 


I  happened  to  be  at  one  of  the  societies  in  the 
town  where  Lulu  Montroville  was  teaching.  The 
society  was  of  a  benevolent  nature,  and  for  the 
promotion  of  good.  Not  long  after  we  were  gath- 
ered, and  had  begun  our  mission  of  doing  good,  a 
Mrs.  Hall  said,  "Oh!  have  you  heard  the  news ?" 

"News!  what  news?'1  came  from  a  number  of 
women. 

"Why,  have  you  not  heard  it?  It's  all  over 
town  about  our  teacher  letting  her  mother  suffer 
for  food  and  clothing." 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  we  had  heard  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Swarts,  "  and  I  gist  think  ef  I  was  in  that  teacher's 
place  I'd  take  off  some  of  that  finery.  Did  you 
see  her  dress — the  one  that  she  had  on  last  week  ? 
It  was  a  nice  black  one.  I  s'pose,  but  I  dunno,  ef 
I  railly  had  a  girl  that  would  treat  me  as  she  does 
her  mother,  I,  wal,  I  railly  dunno  what  I  would 
do." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Church,  "  you  have  been  a 
different  mother  to  your  daughter  than  Miss  Mon- 
troville's  mother  has  been  to  her." 

"1  don't  care  ef  I  have.  She  is  her  mother,  and 
a  mother  is  a  mother,"  said  Mrs.  Swarts. 


Suffering  Millions.  239 

"  Yes,  but  you  know  circumstances  make  a  dif- 
ference, some  times." 

"  I  don't  care  for  circumstances.  I  gist  think  it 
is  a  shame  and  a  disgrace  to  our  town,  to  allow 
sich  a  thing.  I  am  gist  goin'  to  see  the  school 
board.  We  pay  the  biggest  tax  of  anybody,  and 
I'll  give  'em  fits  about  it." 

"In  some  way  I  feel  very  sorry,"  said  Mrs. 
Church,  "for  this  young  lady.  She  is  such  an 
innocent,  and  lady-like  appearing  girl." 

"  Oh,"  said  Mrs.  Swarts,  "  you're  always  feelin' 
sorry  for  some  one.  That  is  one  of  your  weak 
points." 

"Well,''  said  Mrs.  Church,  "our  teacher  is  very 
young,  much  the  youngest  of  any  of  the  teachers 
in  the  school." 

"  Yes,  and  that  shows  what  sense  the  school 
board  had  to  put  such  a  young  thing  in  that 
important  place,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Swarts. 

"  She  is  getting  along  very  nicely  with  her 
school,  is  she  not?" 

"  Oh,  1  guess  she  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Swarts,  "  but 
just  to  think  of  her  lettin'  her  mother  suffer.  I 
met  her  as  I  was  comin'  but  I  did  not  speak  to  her. 
I  am  above  speakin'  to  sich  a  girl." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Clinton,  as  she  raised  her 
gold-bowed  spectacles  to  wipe  away  a  tear  that 
glistened  in  her  eye,  "  ladies,  1  see  you're  unac- 
quainted with  the  embarrassments  that  your  young 
teacher  has  to  encounter.  I  have  known  her  from 


240  Suffering  Millions. 

her  babyhood.  I  know  her  to  be  a  pure,  noble, 
lovable  young  lady.  Although  she  has  one  awful 
trial  to  bear.  Her  mother  is  a  person  of  very 
peculiar  character.  Not  what  you  might  call  fool- 
ish or  crazy.  If  this  were  the  case  then  her 
friends  could  do  something  with  her,  but  she  is 
one  of  those  half-witted,  silly  women,  who  has  no 
love  for  her  home  or  children,  that  no  one  can  do 
anything  with." 

At  this,  chimed  in  Mrs.  Jones,  a  woman  who  was 
somewhat  envious  of  Lulu,  and  a  woman  who  very 
much  desired  to  have  the  young  professor  admire 
her  daughter,  whom  she  knew  to  be  his  equal  in 
family  relation, "  It  is  very  strange,  indeed,  if  this 
girl  will  neglect  her  own  mother.  I  think  a  per- 
son who  would  do  such  a  thing  as  that  is  not  fit  to 
be  recognized.  What  do  you  think  ?" 

u  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Clinton,  "  if  such  were  the 
case  then  I  should  think  just  as  you  do,  but  I 
know  it  to  be  false.  This  dear,  sweet  young  lady, 
when  only  a  little,  helpless  and  worse  than  orphan 
child,  at  the  death  of  her  father,  whom  I  knew  to 
be  a  nice,  intellectual,  young  man,  was  cast  out 
upon  a  cold  world.  Her  mother  neither  possessed 
the  love  nor  the  ability  to  take  care  of  her 
children,  caring  more  to  squander  what  money  she 
had  upon  any  low  tramp  that  happened  to  come 
along." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Mrs.  Jones,  "  she  is  her  mother 
just  the  same." 


Suffering  Millions.  241 

"This  I  will  admit  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Clinton, 
"  but  the  dear  girl  never  knew  a  mother's  tender 
love.  If  I  were  no  more  of  a  mother  to  my  own 
dear  girl  than  she  has  been  to  hers,  I  would  spurn 
the  very  idea  of  being  called  by  that  saintly  name. 
The  tears  have  often  streamed  down  this  poor 
girl's  pale  cheek  as  she  became  acquainted  with 
the  manner  in  which  her  mother  was  conducting 
herself.  Now,  why,  I  pray,  should  this  young  lady 
be  crushed  for  something  she  cannot  help  ?" 

Fortunately  there  happened  to  be  a  writer  of 
world-wide  celebrity  present,  who  was  a  tem- 
porary visitor  at  the  place,  and  considered  a  great 
genius,  who  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Clinton's  question 
said:  ''Ladies,  as  I  for  a  number  of  years  have 
had  a  good  opportunity  of  seeing  much  of  the 
world,  I  have  given  the  subject  of  the  duty  of 
parents  to  their  children  much  thought.  I  suppose 
in  your  rural  towns,  where  you  know  but  little  of 
sin  and  vice,  the  name  mother  is  the  sweetest  and 
purest  name  of  earth.  I,  too,  think  that  name 
should  be  honored  and  adored  next  to  that  of  the 
blessed  Savior,  yet  this  question  has  two  sides  to 
it.  Go  with  me,  if  you  please,  to  England,  France 
or  China,  or  many  more  of  the  country's  of  the 
old  world,  go  into  their  large  cities,  or  even  not 
so  far  away;  go,  if  you  will,  to  the  metropolis  of 
our  own  beloved  United  States,  and  there  I  will 
show  you  women  who  bear  this  saintly  title, 
mother,  reeling  intoxicated,  while  little  children 
16 


242  Suffering  Millions. 

cling  to  them  crying  for  bread.  Or  go,  if  you 
please,  to  the  hovels  of  hell,  where  the  Mother  of 
Harlots  and  the  abominations  of  the  earth  dwell. 
There  you  will  see  that  this  holy  name  of  mother 
is  sometimes  not  just  what  it  should  be.  And  ye 
parents  provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath ;  but 
bring  them  up  in  the  fear,  nurture  and  admonition 
of  the  Lord." 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Jones,  becoming  somewhat 
excited,  UI  think  you're  treading  on  forbidden 
ground." 

"  Well,"  said  this  distinguished  guest,  "  I  can 
not  help  it  if  I  am.  I  make  no  statement  but  what 
I  can  prove." 

"  You  know,"  said  Mrs.  Jones,  "  the  bible  says  : 
'  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother,  that  thy  days 
may  be  long  upon  the  earth." 

"  I  know  so  much  has  been  said  upon  the  duty 
of  children  to  parents  that  the  other  side  of  the 
matter — the  duty  of  parents  to  children — has  been 
little  noticed;  but  now,  when  all  social  questions 
are  receiving  attention,  this  must  soon  attract 
more  discussion.  I,"  said  the  distinguished  guest, 
"  should  like  to  hear  the  lady  who  said  she  had 
been  acquainted  with  your  teacher,  give  a  little 
history  of  the  young  lady's  mother." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Clinton,  ''as  I  said  before,  I 
have  known  her  from  her  babyhood,  and  had  it 
cot  been  for  her  grandma,  while  she  was  living, 
and  since  that  time  for  her  aunt,  I  am  quite  sure 


Suffering  Millions.  243 

the  dear  girl  would  have  long  ago  been  in  her 
grave.  She  has  ever  been  a  frail  child.  Her  aunt 
has  done  everything  she  could  to  educate  and  pre- 
pare her  for  society  and  to  make  her  a  blessing  to 
the  world.  She  is  one  of  the  most  lovable  girls  I 
ever  knew.  Her  mother  is  just  the  reverse." 

"It  is  imperative,"  said  the  author,  "that  chil- 
dren be  from  infancy  taught  obedience  and  respect 
to  parents,  but  unless  the  life  of  that  parent  proves 
a  daily  demonstration  of  truths  taught,  what  good 
the  teaching?  If  a  parent,  while  continually  set- 
ting forth  the  duty  of  parental  respect,  yet  daily 
performs  acts  of  low  and  mean  degree,  how  can 
that  child,  by  any  possible  stretch  of  will  or  im- 
agination, feel  the  respect  for  that  parent,  de- 
manded of  him?  and  who  feels  wounded  if  he 
finds  himself  not  the  recipient  thereof?  It  is  like 
pretending  that  snow  is  black,  when  you  know 
it  is  white." 

'•  The  union  between  Lulu's  mother  and  father, 
was  a  sad  one,"  continued  Mrs.  Clinton.  "It  was 
one  of  those  imperfect  ties  that  pass  under  the 
name." 

"  Ah !  there  it  is,  how  many  wretched  abodes 
there  are  because  of  such  imperfect  ties.  But  I  do 
truly  thank  God  that  there  are  marriages  so 
blessed,  the  choice  so  perfect,  that  the  home  is  a 
foretaste  of  eternity." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Clinton, "  there  are,  yet 
I  have  often  thought  it  a  very  merciful  thing  that 


244  Suffering  Millions. 

the  marriages  of  earth,  have  no  historic  effect  upon 
the  ties  of  heaven." 

"  Well,"  said  the  writer,  "  I  firmly  take  the 
ground,  and  am  not  afraid  of  successful  contradic- 
tion, that  a  parent  owes  it  to  a  child  that  he  or  she 
shall  bring  no  disgrace  upon  that  child.  And  his 
duty  in  this  respect  is  much  more  imperative  than 
is  that  of  his  child  toward  him  because  the  parent 
is  the  author  of  the  child's  life.  It  is  their  bounden 
duty  to  see  to  it  that  their  child's  life  be  made  just 
as  bright  and  desirable  as  possible ;  that  not  only 
food  and  shelter  and  raiment  be  supplied,  that  an 
education  and  a  fair  start  in  life  be  guaranteed 
(and  every  parent  owes  this  to  his  child,  else  he 
should  never  have  been  a  parent) ;  but  also,  that 
there  shall  never  creep  into  that  young  heart  a 
doubt  of  the  parent's  worth,  or  a  lack  of  confidence, 
or  a  shame  for  the  source  of  his  existence." 

"  I  do  firmly  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Clinton,  "  that 
your  young  teacher's  mother,  on  account  of  her 
knowing  herself  to  be  the  mother  of  so  pure  a  girl 
as  Lulu  is,  and  possessing  not  one  spark  of  true 
motherly  affection,  does  all  in  her  power  to  dis- 
grace her  daughter.  I  have  seen  so  many  of  her 
disgraceful  tricks.  I  stood  by  and  saw  the  wretch- 
edness which  surrounded  William,  Lulu's  father, 
on  every  side,  and  said  to  myself  that  if  it  were 
possible  to  utter  the  impulse  of  my  soul,  I  would 
cry  throughout  the  breadth  of  earth  a  warning  to 
the  haste,  or  the  presumption  of  an  unwise  mar- 


Suffering  Millions.  245 

riage.  I  happened  to  be  at  his  house  during  his 
last  sickness.  Oh,  if  you  could  have  seen  the 
wretchedness  that  surrounded  him.  It  fairly 
makes  my  heart  bleed  yet." 

"  I,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Brown, "  have  known  much  of 
Miss  Montroville's  mother.  I  have  often  seen  her 
meet  her  daughter  in  company  and  turn  her  head 
just  as  far  away  as  she  could,  so  her  daughter 
could  get  no  chance  to  speak  to  her,  as  she  well 
knew  Lulu  was  too  much  of  a  lady  to  meet  her 
mother  and  be  unwilling  to  speak  to  her,  and 
would  afterwards  remark  to  people,  '  do  you  not 
think  a  daughter  should  respect  her  mother  ?  but 
Lulu  is  above  speaking  to  me.  She  is  so  big  feel- 
ing and  stuck  up.'  This  statement,  although 
.strange,  is  nevertheless  true." 

"I,  too,"  said  Rev.  Crawford,  "  think  the  subject 
of  training  children  of  vital  importance,  and  that 
the  responsibility  of  parents,  of  mothers  especially, 
is  almost  entirely  ignored.  You  know,"  said  he,  u  it 
nearly  ruins  a  young  person's  name  to  say  that  he 
or  she  is  disrespectful  to  their  mother,  because  you 
know  Our  Maker  has  conferred  upon  woman  the 
highest  honor  ever  bestowed  upon  mortal,  and  as- 
signed to  her  the  holiest  mission  that  belongs  to 
earth.  Yet  there  is  a  great  difference  in  mothers. 
I  do  feel  so  very  sorry  for  your  young  teacher,  be- 
cause I,  too,  know  her  to  be  a  most  worthy  young 
lady,  and  I  very  much  fear  low  and  malicious 
people,  on  account  of  a  weak  and  silly  mother,  will 


246  Suffering  Millions. 

try  all  they  can  to  mar  this  pure  and  innocent 
girl's  name.  You  know,  it  is  the  mother's  office  to 
watch  over  the  unfolding  intellect,  and  give  bent 
to  the  mind ;  her  hand  moulds,  and  gives  bent  to 
the  character,  and  she  may  shape  it  as  she  will. 
To  her  belongs  the  incomparable  task  of  fitting 
immortal  souls  for  their  work  here,  and  their  eter- 
nal destiny  hereafter.  Yet  there  are  mothers  who 
do  not  perform  their  God  given  work.  A  parent 
who  really  deserves  the  respect  of  his  children 
will  always  receive  it,  even  though  darkened  by  the 
child's  evil  deeds;  for  nature  is  strong,  and  filial 
love  is  nature.  But  a  parent  whose  whole  life  is  a 
round  of  evil  deeds  can  not  expect  the  respect  of 
his  children." 

UI  do  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Clinton,  "that  the- 
world  to  day  is  worse  and  poorer  in  great  and  good 
men,  for  the  want  of  more  such  mothers  as  were 
those  of  John  Quincy  Adams  and  John  and  Charles 
Wesley,  and  although  terrible  denunciation  has  al- 
ways attended  the  ungrateful  child,  yet  I  would 
like  to  hear  a  little  more  said  of  the  wrong  acts 
and  faulty  teachings  of  an  unworthy  parent.  I  be- 
lieve that  God  will  not  excuse  the  former,  and  will 
visit  his  wrath  far  heavier  on  the  parent." 


"  Well  my  son,"  said  Hon.  A ,  as  he  placed 

his  spectacles  above  his  forehead,  "  I  think  it  high 
time  you  were   thinking   about  choosing  a  wife. 


Suffering  Millions.  247 

You  now  are  old  enough  to  have  a  home  of  your 
own." 

"  Well,'1  said  the  young  man,  whom  we  will 
introduce  as  the  principal  of  the  village  high 
school,"!  hardly  know  about  it.  I  suppose  the 
most  folks  marry  long  before  they  are  of  my  age. 
But  pshaw !  whom  would  I  marry  ? 

"  Well,  my  son,  I  have  taken  much  pains  with 
your  education,  and  it  is  my  wish  that  you  should 
marry  well.  You  know  there  is  much  in  blood. 
I  prefer  you  should  look  well  to  whom  your  wife's 
ancestors  were." 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man,  while  a  blush 
over-spread  his  face,  "I  don't  know  as  it  makes 
any  difference  whether  my  wife's  grandfather,  or 
great  grandfather  was  a  judge  of  a  supreme  court 
or  a  fiddler." 

"  Look  here,  my  son,"  as  a  grave  shadow  passed 
over  his  face,  "  you  know* better  than  that.  There 
is  every  thing  in  blood.  You  know  your  mother 
belonged  to  an  old  and  aristocratic  family.  She, 
as  you  know,  has  made  a  good  wife  and  mother. 
Now  my  son,  I  hope  you  will  not  bring  disgrace 
on  our  family." 

"  Well,  father,  I  know  you  have  been  very  kind 
indeed ;  now  who  would  you  have  me  marry  ?" 

"  Well  my  son,  there  is  Hannah  S ,  my 

dear  old  friend's  daughter,  and  you  know  he  is 
worth  his  thousands." 

"Oh  father,"  said  the  young  man,  "you  are  not 


248  Suffering  Millions. 

so  cruel  as  that,  are  you  ?  Why,  she  is  as  homely 
as  a  hedge-hog,  and  I  do  not  like  her.  I  can  surely 
never  think  of  that." 

"My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  stamping  his  foot 
with  emphasis  on  the  floor,  "  you  know  not  what 
you  are  talking  about.  You  well  know  her  ances- 
tors were  of  the  first  families  of  Boston.  My 
heart  is  set  on  this  marriage.  She  admires  you 
and  you  must  marry  her  or  not  ?  cent  of  my 
money  shall  you  ever  have.  You  know  I  have 
spent  many  hundred  dollars  on  your  education." 

"  Well  father,  she  is  not  educated,  and  you  are 
aware  that  she  cares  nothing  about  improvement 
and  culture." 

"  My  son,  it  makes  no  difference  about  a  woman 
being  educated,  only  so  she  can  cook,  iron,  wash, 
and  mend  your  clothes;  you  surely  know  she 
belongs  to  an  old  and  wealthy  family." 

"  What  do  I  care  about'  her  family.  I  think  for 
a  marriage  to  prove  a  happy  one  minds  should 
blend  together.  How,  I  would  ask,  could  a  cul- 
tured person  be  happy,  married  to  a  very  ignorant 
person  ?" 

"  My  son,  has  not  blood  anything  to  do  with  it  ? 
If  your  wife's  ancestors  are  of  an  old  and  wealthy 
family  I  shall  be  happy ;  if  not,  I  shall  go  to  my 
grave  in  sorrow.  Now,  my  son,  look  well  before 
you  leap.  The  first  great,  important  step  to  con- 
sider is  good  blood,  and  the  next  is  money." 

"Why  father,  how  you  talk!     How  perfectly 


Suffering  Millions,  249 

cruel !"  At  this  the  young  man  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  began  walking  the  floor  as  if  in  terrible 
agony. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "  what  on  earth  is 
the  matter  with  you  ?  You  act  as  if  you  were 
going  crazy.  I  fear  you  have  placed  your  affec- 
tions on  some  poor  girl  of  common  birth.  Oh,  my 
son,  you  whom  1  have  idolized,  to  come  to  such  a 
fate  as  this!  Rather  would  I  see  you  laid  in  your 
grave." 

"  Father,  do  not  talk  so.  Is  there  any  harm  in 
loving  a  pure,  noble,  intelligent  girl,  one  who  has 
striven  hard  to  make  her  life  a  success  ?" 

"  My  son,  you  must  not  address  me  thus.  I  said, 
and  now  I  say  it  again,  you  shall  not  bring  dis- 
grace upon  our  family.  You  shall  look  at  the 
ancestors  of  your  wife.  Now  do  not  be  foolish. 
You  know  Hannah  belongs  to  an  old  and  respect- 
able family." 

At  this  remark  of  the  old  gentleman  the  young 
man  left  the  house  looking  sad  and  discouraged, 

11  What  a  fool,"  muttered  the  old  man,  "  a  boy 
can  make  of  himself.  Just  let  him  talk  to  me 
again  of  a  pure,  cultured  girl !" 


Dear  Lulu,  although  loved  by  all  who  were  not 
envious  of  her,  yet  at  the  close  of  her  school, 
shrunk  from  the  idea  of  again  facing  the  gaze  of 
the  gossiping  town.  "I  cannot  again,"  said  she, 
"  think  of  teaching  this  school.  You  know  there 


250  Suffering  Millions. 

are  many  who  know  nothing  of  the  sorrow  that 
has  always  been  my  lot,  on  account  of  the  peculi- 
arities of  my  mother.  Strange,  strange  indeed,  to 
those  who  have  known  a  mother's  tender  care  and 
protection  to  see  my  mother  going  up  and  down 
the  streets  reeling  and  intoxicated,  talking  about 
me.  Oh,  for  a  mother's  love,  a  love  for  some 
cause  withheld  from  me." 

"  God  alone  this  secret  can  unfold,  Lulu.  In- 
deed it  has  ever  been  a  mystery  to  me,  why  you, 
so  young,  so  pure,  so  gentle,  should  know  such 
sorrow.  But  no  doubt  the  change  you  are  about 
to  make  will  be  for  your  own  good." 

"  Oh,  said  May,  as  she  wrung  her  hands  with 
grief,  how  can  I  give  my  precious  Lulu  up  ?  And 
yet  I  know,"  said  she,  "  if  Lulu  goes,  as  she  in- 
tends, to  her  uncle's,  it  will  be  better  for  her.  He 
has  ever  been  kind  to  her.  I  know  he  will  protect 
her  from  the  vile  gossip  that  has  been  so  unjustly 
circulated  about  her  in  regard  to  her  mother.  I 
would  not,  I  could  not  give  her  up,  did  I  not  think 
it  for  her  own  good.  Her  uncle  has  wealth,  while 
I  have  not.  He  is  a  good,  noble  gentleman,  and 
will  gladly  shield  her  good  name  from  slanderous 
tongues.  She  will  be  the  niece  of  an  influential 
merchant.  You  know  the  child  protected  with 
wealth  and  influence  has  many  advantages  over 
one  that  is  not." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  they  are,  yet  you  remember  the 
Lord  answered  Job  out  of  the  whirlwind,  and  said, 


Suffering  Millions.  251 

'Wilt  thou  also  disannul  my  judgment?  Deck 
thyself  now  with  majesty  and  excellency,  and  ar- 
ray thyself  with  glory.  Look  on  every  one  that  is 
proud,  and  bring  him  low;  and  tread  down  the 
wicked  in  their  place,  then  will  I  confess  unto 
thee  that  thine  own  right  hand  can  save.'  And 
you  remember  that  the  Lord  blessed  the  latter  end 
of  Job's  life  more  than  the  beginning.'' 

'•  Yes,  indeed,  I  too  think  it  best  for  Lulu  to  go 
to  her  uncle,  because  I  know  she  can  do  nothing 
with  her  mother,  and  the  name  of  a  girl  is  easily 
marred." 

Lulu  felt  relieved  when  her  things  were  ready, 
and  she  stood  waiting  in  the  little  railway  station 
for  the  train  that  was  to  carry  her  away.  Oh,  my 
heart  bled  for  her  as  I  held  her  hand  in  mine, 
and  looked  into  those  large  and  expressive  eyes, 
wet  with  tears.  Oh,  how  I  breathed  a  prayer  that 
the  God  of  the  orphan  would  protect  her,  and  al- 
though sad  as  I  was  at  the  parting,  yet  I  deemed 
the  step  she  was  going  to  take  one  that  would  free 
her  from  the  many  trials  she  daily  had  to  encounter. 
Although  a  lovely  girl  of  some  twenty  summers, 
yet  Lulu  knew  much  of  sorrow.  As  I  took  her 
hand  I  could  scarcely  restrain  the  impulse  to  lay 
my  head  upon  her  shoulder  and  have  a  hearty  cry ; 
and  although  a  sweet  smile  wreathed  her  rosy  lips, 
and  her  eyes  beamed  so  lovingly  upon  me,  yet  I 
noticed  the  tears  trembling  upon  those  dear  droop- 
ing lashes.  Other  friends  bid  Lulu  farewell,  but 


252  Suffering  Millions. 

the  dear  girl  showed  no  outburst  of  grief;  mild, 
pure,  gentle,  as  she  ever  had  been,  yet  she  said,  "do 
not  think  my  love  for  you  all  will  ever  change  in 
the  least,  even  if  I  should  stay  for  many  years." 
I  well  knew  that  her  words  were  true,  because  I 
knew  she  was  too  noble  a  girl  to  lei  either  wealth 
or  position  make  any  difference  in  her  affections 
toward  those  she  loved.  Oh,  how  the  tears  flowed 
down  May's  face  after  Lulu  had  bid  her  adieu. 

"  Well,"  said  I,  "  May  you  had  better  return 
home  and  I  will  see  Lulu  on  the  train.  I  saw  that 
May  was  so  overcome  with  grief  that  it  would  be 
much  better  for  her  not  to  see  Lulu  get  on  the 
train." 

"  Well,"  said  Lulu,  "  You  must  write  to  me." 

"Yes,  indeed,  dear  girl,  I  will,  for  I  am  anxious 
to  know  how  you  get  along." 

As  the  train  came  hurrying  in  that  would  bear 
dear  Lulu  to  the  far  away  western  city  where  she 
was  going,  a  father  and  his  son  were  also  awaiting 
its  arrival. 

"  So  you  are  going  away,  are  you  Miss  Montro- 
ville  ?  "  said  the  father. 

"Yes,"  said  Lulu,  I  am  going  to  my  uncle's  with 
whom  I  lived  a  short  time  when  a  little  girl." 

"  I  understand  he  is  your  mother's  brother." 

"Yes,"  said  Lulu. 

As  the  old  gentleman  was  also  going  a  number 
of  miles  westward  he  turned  to  bid  his  son  good 
by,  and  was  greatly  surprised  to  find  him  so  over- 


Suffering  Millions.  253 

come  he  could  hardly  speak.  The  young  man 
cast  a  hurried  look  at  Lulu  without  a  parting  word. 
Ah !  Why  could  he  not  take  her  hand  in  his  and 
say  a  last  farewell  ?  Ah !  the  trouble  was  the 
distance  between  them  was  too  great.  He,  the 
son  of  influence  and  luxury  ;  she,  the  daughter  of 
sorrow,  ignorance,  and  misery.  She,  whose  cheeks 
had  often  been  wet  with  tears  she  could  not  sup- 
press ;  she,  who  had  known  much  of  bitter  sorrow 
and  affliction. 

"Well,"  remarked  the  old  gentleman  somewhat 
nervously  to  a  Iriend  he  happened  to  meet  on  the 
train,  u  that  young  Miss  Montroville,  who  taught 
in  the  same  school  of  which  my  son  was  the  prin- 
cipal, is  a  rather  charming  girl,  is  she  not?" 

"Yes,"  said  his  friend,  "one  of  the  finest  girls  I 
ever  saw.  But  the  poor  girl  has  many  things  to 
contend  with  that  are  very  hard  to  bear." 

"Well,"  said  the  old  gentleman,"  what  fools 
some  young  folks  can  make  of  themselves.  Talk 
to  me  about  culture  and  improvement.  What 
does  it  all  amount  to  unless  a  person  belongs  to  a 
good  family  ?  Sir,  there  is  much  in  blood." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  his  friend,  "I  believe  a  child 
that  works  its  way  up  in  the  world  with  every 
difficulty  to  surmount  is  just  as  deserving  as  one 
that  is  surrounded  with  every  blessing  of  life. 
Look  at  the  illy  arranged  families  in  our  country. 
Look  at  the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  helpless 
little  children  that  have  no  advantages  at  all." 


254  Suffering  Millions. 

Shortly  after  Lulu  went  away,  there  began  to  be 
a  change  in  the  actions  of  the  young  professor. 
He  began  to  sink  into  a  melancholy  state  of  mind. 
The  doctors  said  he  had  nervous  prostration.  His 
father  was  summoned  back  from  the  west,  very 
much  worried  about  his  son's  health.  The  best 
medical  skill  could  do  nothing,  and  he  gradually 
sunk  into  a  deranged  slate  of  mind,  and  before 
many  months  filled  a  premature  grave.  His  father 
was  crushed  at  the  death  of  his  son,  and  life  to 
him  became  only  a  burden.  "Why,"  said  he, 
"  was  my  noble  boy  taken  from  me  ?  He  was  my 
only  hope  and  joy."  The  gray  locks  and  stooped 
form  of  the  old  man  told  too  true  that  his  heart 
was  broken,  and  that  before  many  months  he 
would  follow  his  son. 


Suffering  Millions.  255 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 


Not  long  after  Lulu  went  away,  I  happened  to 
be  visiting  in  the  west ;  and,  as  I  had  a  friend  who 
lived  in  the  same  city  where  her  uncle  resided,  I 
thought  I  would  visit  there.  I  thought  to  myself 
I  will  not  let  Lulu  know  I  am  so  near  her.  Shortly 
after  my  arrival  my  friend  and  I  were  walking 
along  one  of  the  fine  drive  ways,  when  presently 
there  passed  us  an  elegant  carriage  with  prancing 
horses,  driven  by  a  coachman.  It  was  one  of  the 
finest  surreys  I  ever  saw.  Turning  to  me  my 
friend  said,  u  there  goes  the  beautiful  and  accom- 
plished niece  of  Mr.  W ,  one  of  our  enter- 
prising merchants.  I  understand  she  is  an  orphan, 
and  has  come  to  reside  with  her  uncle."  As  I 
glanced  at  the  carriage  .my  heart  gave  a  bound, 
for  who  should  I  see  but  my  dear  young  friend 
Lulu.  As  I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  let  Lulu 
know  of  my  arrival,  I  said,  "  indeed,  a  very  fine 
carriage."  Then  my  friend  went  on  to  say,  "  she 
must  be  a  very  fine  young  lady  to  be  the  niece  of 
so  worthy  a  gentleman  as  he." 

';  No  doubt,"  said  I.  But  at  the  same  time  I 
could  not  help  thinking,  is  the  dear  girl  any  better 
than  she  was  when  looked  upon  as  the  daughter  of 
a  poor  dissipated  mother?  I  said  to  myself,  no 


256  Suffering  Millions. 

doubt,  to  the  eyes  of  the  world  she  is,  but  not  to 
God. 

"Yes,"  said  my  friend,  "  blood  will  tell." 
"  No  doubt  it  will,"  said  I,  "  in  some  cases,  but 
as  I  have  given  the  subject  much  thought  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  that  it  surely  does  not  in  every 
case."  I  noticed  my  friend  looked  very  much  as- 
tonished to  think  I  did  not  agree  with  him  on  the 
subject,  so  I  said  no  more,  and  we  changed  our 
conversation.  On  the  following  Sunday  I  attended 
one  of  the  large  and  fashionable  churches  with  my 
friend.  We  had  not  been  seated  long  before  in 
walked  Lulu,  escorted  by  a  fine  looking  gentleman, 
whom  I  afterward  learned  was  a  relative  of  her's, 
and  the  chorister  of  the  church.  He  proudly  led 
her  up  the  choir.  I  noticed  that  she  passed  up  the 
aisle  with  the  same  unaffected  ease  that  she  did  in 
the  little  church  near  her  childhood's  home.  I 
noticed  that  all  eyes  were  bent  on  the  lovely  girl, 
partly,  no  doubt,  on  account  of  her  being  a 
stranger  and  partly  on  account  of  her  unaffected 
ease  and  beauty.  I  was  almost  overcome  with 
rapture  as  1  caught  the  sound  of  her  fine  alto 
voice  as  it  floated  through  those  magnificent  halls. 
I  was  glad  that  my  friend's  pew  was  situated 
where  I  was  unnoticed  by  Lulu,  though  I  could 
plainly  see  her.  The  dear  girl  was  richly  clad. 
Those  same  large,  expressive  eyes,  instead  of  being 
wet  with  tears  were  sparkling  with  beauty,  and 
there  was  a  mild  and  happy  expression  on  her 


Suffering  Millions.  257 

face.  After  the  service  closed,  and  we  were  on 
our  way  home,  my  friend  said  to  me,  ''  what  a 
very  fine  singer  that  strange  young  lady  is  who 
sang  to  day  in  the  choir.  She  is,  I  understand,  a 
near  relative  of  the  chorister.  I  knew  he  referred 
to  Lulu,  so  feeling  anxious  to  learn  who  the  gentle- 
man was  that  accompanied  Lulu,  I  said,  "  who  was 
the  gentleman  with  the  strange  young  lady  whom 
you  refer  to  ? " 

"  Oh,"  said  my  friend,  "  that  was  Prof.  W , 

one  of  the  finest  singers  in  the  city.  We  are  in- 
vited to  attend  a  large  party  given  in  honor  of  this 
young  lady  next  week." 

I  could  not  help  feeling  very  glad  of  the  invita- 
tion as  I  very  much  desired  to  watch  the  difference 
in  the  attention  paid  to  one  who  was  looked  upon 
as  a  relative  of  influential  people,  or  one  who  was 
thought  to  belong  to  people  not  so  worthy.  In- 
deed, the  difference  was  very  surprising.  At  the 
party  dear  Lulu  was  admitted  to  be  the  belle  of 
the  evening.  All  did  homage  to  her,  and  she  was 
looked  upon  as  a  very  accomplished  and  worthy 
young  lady,  which  indeed  she  was.  But  neverthe- 
less was  she  really  any  better  than  when  her  face 
was  wet  with  tears,  when  the  frown  of  a  whole 
community  was  upon  her  for  something  she  could 
no  more  help  or  change  than  she  could  the  laws  of 
gravitation  ?  Oh,  if  we  could  go  into  the  wretched 
houses  and  see  the  sorrow  there,  I  do  believe  it 
would  give  us  a  missionary  spirit,  and  a  determ- 


Suffering  Millions. 

ination  to  go  out  into  Ihe  world  and  labor  there. 
As  ray  stay  in  the  city  necessarily  had  to  be 
short,  I  left  Lulu  there  surrounded  with  wealth 
and  friends,  the  same  pure,  innocent  girl  she  had 
ever  been.  In  Ward  Montroville's  home,  beauti- 
ful sons  and  daughters  have  grown  up.  His  oldest 
daughter  is  attending  one  of  the  leading  colleges 
of  the  state.  Charlie  has  grown  almost  to  man- 
hood, a  bright  and  noble  boy.  As  no  little  ones 
have  ever  come  to  gladden  the  heart  and  home  of 
May  and  her  husband,  there  then  was  a  vacant 
chair  that  Lulu  alone  could  fill,  who  was  indeed 
the  music  and  the  sunshine  of  their  home.  "  Sing, 
O  heavens,  and  be  joyful,  O  earth,  for  the  Lord 
hath  comforted  his  people,  and  will  have  mercy 
upon  his  afflicted."  "  Can  a  woman  forget  her 
sucking  child?  Yea,  they  may  forget,  yet  I  will 
not  forget  thee,  saith  the  Holy  One  of  Israel." 


While  attending  one  of  the  most  successful  uni- 
versities of  the  United  States,  Lulu  became  ac- 
quainted with  a  young  man  whom  we  will  call 
Wilmot  Haverland,  a  young  man  of  fine  mental 
ability,  who  was  taking  a  course  in  Law.  He  was 
of  commanding  appearance,  over  six  feet  tall,  very 
handsomely  built,  with  high,  noble  forehead,  and 
keen  blue  eyes,  which  bespoke  more  than  ordinary 
intellect.  He  soon  became  perfectly  enchanted 
with  the  pure,  noble  girl.  Naturally  too  intelli- 


Suffering  Millions.  259 

gent  to  criticise  Lulu's  ancestry,  he  did  every- 
thing to  ennoble  the  girl  whom  he  hoped  to  secure 
as  his  wife.  Their  friendship  rapidly  developed, 
and  before  many  months  passed  he  proudly  led 
Lulu  to  the  altar,  bedecked  in  handsome  array. 
He  looked  into  the  pure,  sweet  face  of  her  whom 
he  honored  above  all  others  as  his  bride,  and  in  a 
few  moments  the  clergyman  pronounced  them 
man  and  wife.  He  soon  found  out  that  he  had 
made  a  wise  choice.  Lulu,  in  her  own  home  as 
elsewhere,  was  a  constant  beam  of  sunshine.  Mr. 
Haverland  soon  became  one  of  the  most  successful 
lawyers  in  his  state,  and  his  young  wife  was  all  he 
asked  for,  as  she  knew  well  how  to  oversee  her 
household.  In  due  time  other  joys  came  to  their 
home,  the  voice  of  a  baby  boy,  first  delighted  the 
hearts  of  the  young  parents,  and  before  many 
years  passed  a  little  daughter  with  its  mother's 
beautiful  eyes,  and  her  sunny  disposition,  came  to 
add  more  happiness  4:o  their  home.  And  now,  just 
before  we  let  the  curtains  fall  over  their  home  we 
will  just  take  one  other  peep.  A  well  arranged 
household  with  all  of  the  modern  improvements ; 
a  large,  spacious  lawn  with  flowers  of  the  most 
rare  and  gorgeous  hue ;  horses,  and  carriages  with 
colored  servants  and  waiters  of  the  most  trained 
and  obedient  kind,  and  sitting  on  the  bench  of  the 
Supreme  Court,  Judge  Haverland,  the  once  prom- 
ising young  lawyer,  is  now  the  admiration  of  his 
native  land. 


260  Suffering  Millions. 


CHAPTER  XXIX, 


In  a  quiet  country  graveyard,  where  the  gentle 
zephyrs  play  among  the  leaves,  sweetly  sleeps  the 
body  of  William  Montroville,  with  his  father  and 
mother  by  his  side.  Here  every  year  do  comrades, 
those  brave  and  gallant  men,  that  faced  the  can- 
non's deadly  mouth,  who  have  united  heart  and 
hand  to  once  a  year  strew  flowers  over  the  graves 
of  their  comrades,  who  stood  the  hardships  of  a 
long  and  bloody  war,  meet,  and  with  loving  hands 
place  flowers  and  the  beautiful  stars  and  stripes 
over  William's  grave,  little  knowing  the  whole  of 
his  history.  Although  obscure  and  unknown,  yet 
may  he  sweetly  sleep  with  God's  blessing  upon 
him ;  and  although  his  young  and  useful  life  was 
blighted  here,  in  this  world  of  sin  and  sorrow,  yet 
he  sleeps  with  our  nation's  beautiful  emblem  wav- 
ing over  his  grave.  That  same  flag  which  he 
loved  so  much,  and  which  he  saw  used  as  a  bed 
quilt  in  the  old  southern  planter's  house,  while 
acting  as  a  spy  away  down  in  the  sunny  south,  the 
sight  of  which  made  his  warm  blood  boil : 

Strew  flowers  o'er  me,  comrades  brave, 

While  you  are  marching  near. 
It  would  be  more  pleasant  in  the  grave, 

If  I  could  know  you  placed  them  here. 


Suffering  Millions.  261 

Place  those  dear  flags,  one  at  rny  head, 

Another  at  my  feet, 
That  they  may  wave  tho'  I  am  dead ; 

To  me  they  were  complete. 

Oh,  may  you  see  those  colors  float, 

Their  beauty  is  so  rare, 
On  land  on  spire,  'mid  sea  on  boat, 

And  through  the  azure  air. 

You  well  remember  comrades  dear, 

Upon  that  awful  day, 
The  distant  battle  wail  sound  clear, 

We  thought  our  lives  we'd  pay. 

Upon  a  fort  a  flag  there  waved, 

Our  colonel  saw  it  there, 
'Mid  death  he  rushed  our  flag  to  save, 

While  lightning  filled  the  air. 

He  tore  it  from  its  lofty  stand, 

And  placed  our  colors  there. 
He  bravely  waved  it  in  his  hand, 

Then  threw  it  to  the  air. 

Upon  that  dreaded  battlefield, 

Where  blood  ran  fast  and  deep, 
You  bravely  said  you  would  not  yield, 

Tho'  the  last  sleep  you'd  sleep. 

Oh,  may  those  stars  wave  over  your  grave, 

AVhen  you  are  sleeping  low, 
We  fought  and  bled,  them  for  to  save, 

We  could  not  let  them  go. 


A  Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake. 


CHAPTER  I. 

At  one  of  our  summer  resorts  a  young  man  of 
quiet  and  amiable  disposition  spent  much  time 
with  a  young  woman,  who  was  the  daughter  of 
very  indulgent  parents,  who  had  indulged  their 
child  in  having  her  own  way  about  almost  every- 
thing. The  young  man  was  drawn  into  her  com- 
pany, or  at  least  was  always  devising  plans  to  be 
with  the  young  lady,  whom  we  will  call  Mildred 
Hawthorne.  He  no  doubt  felt  at  times  that  the 
hasty,  impulsive  girl,  was  not  the  one  fitted  to 
make  for  him  a  happy  home,  but  led  on  by  that 
strange  inclination  or  infatuation  that  often  unites 
in  the  holy  bond  of  wedlock  those  so  illy  mated, 
who  could  never  agree  just  exactly  on  one 
subject,  or  see  things  in  just  the  same  light. 
Strange  that  there  should  be  any  possible  chance 
for  people  to  make  such  a  mistake,  to  marry  and 
drag  out  a  miserable  life. 

After  a  somewhat  disagreeable  courtship,  Mark 
Allen  married  the  wayward  Mildred  Hawthorne, 
and  took  her  to  his  quiet  country  home.  Now 
Mark  was  one  of  those  good,  quiet  persons,  that 
little  of  this  world's  goods  will  satisfy;  but  Mil- 


264        A   Wife's  and  Husbands  Mistake. 

dred  was  proud  and  ambitious  and  very  hard  to 
suit. 

"Well,  Mildred,"  said  Mark  shortly  after  they 
had  begun  housekeeping,  "  I  am  going  this  after- 
noon down  to  Willton,"  this  was  a  small  town  a 
few  miles  distant, "  would  you  not  like  to  accom- 
pany me?" 

Mildred  was  just  finishing  her  ironing,  and  felt 
somewhat  proud  of  her  success  in  her  first  attempt 
in  doing  up  a  nice  lot  of  fine  linen  shirts  for  her 
husband.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I  would  like  very 
much  to  go.  We  can  take  tea  with  your  sister 
Nellia.  But  Mark,  you  must  change  your  shirt," 
giving  a  glance  at  the  nice,  pure,  white  shirts 
which  she  had  taken  so  much  pains  to  do  up. 

"  No,  I  am  in  a  hurry ;  this  shirt  is  good  enough, 
beside?,  what  is  the  use?  I  am  a  married  man 
and  my  market  is  made." 

"  Then  I  shall  not  go,  for  you  look  like  a  fright." 

"  Well  then,  you  will  have  to  stay  at  home," 
said  he,  as  he  jumped  into  his  buggy  and  drove  off. 
"  I  am  not  going  to  be  bothered  with  all  of  her 
silly  whims,"  thought  Mark,  as  he  half  regretfully 
hastened  on  his  way. 

"  He  never  once  noticed  how  hard  I  have 
worked,"  thought,  Mildred,  as  she  laid  her  head  on 
her  ironing  table  and  began  to  cry;  "but  I  just 
would  not  go  with  him  with  that  old  dirty  shirt  on, 
I  just  wanted  him  to  plainly  understand  that." 
Mildred  sat  pouting  for  some  time,  then  got  up 


A   Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake.       265 

saying,  "I  guess  he  will  understand  I  am  not  going 
with  him  when  he  has  on  a  dirty  shirt." 

Mark  drove  as  quickly  as  possible  to  the  village, 
never  stopping  to  take  tea  with  his  sister,  and  after 
forgetting  half  he  had  intended  to  purchase,  started 
home  half  sorry  that  he  had  not  taken  time  to 
change  his  shirt  so  his  wife  would  have  accom- 
panied him.  He  well  knew  she  had  worked  hard, 
and  of  course  the  change  would  have  done  her 
good,  besides,  they  could  have  taken  tea  and  spent 
the  time  pleasantly  with  his  sister  ;  "  but,"  thought 
he,  "  we  now  are  married,  and  such  foolishness 
will  not  do.  I  look  well  enough." 

Poor  Mildred,  as  the  shades  of  night  began  to 
gather,  was  feeling  quite  lonely.  "  Oh,  dear !"  said 
she,  "  what  shall  I  do?  He  may  not  come  home 
to  night.  I  have  offended  him,  and  I  may  have  to 
stay  alone.  Oh,  dear,  what  shall  I  do?  She  hur- 
ried around,  did  up  the  chores,  and  then  after  get- 
ting a  nice  dainty  supper,  setting  the  table  with 
snowy  cloth,  arranging  the  silver  and  China  dishes 
with  more  than  usual  neatness,  sat  down  to  await 
her  husband's  arrival;  but  there  was  an  unusual 
throbbing  of  her  heart  and  a  keen  aching  pain 
piercing  her  breast,  as  she  awaited  his  return. 

Mark,  too,  was  quite  nervous,  and  thought  the 
road  never  before  so  long.  "  Oh,  dear,  if  anything 
should  happen  her;  but  then  it  will  not  do  to  in- 
dulge her  pride,  or  give  up  in  small  things.  Mar- 
ried folks  must  use  judgment.  l  Pride  always  goes 
before  a  fall.' " 


266        A    Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake. 

Mildred  had  almost  given  up  his  return.  She 
now  began  to  walk  the  floor  while  tears  flowed 
down  her  cheeks.  At  last  the  sound  of  a  buggy 
driven  at  rapid  speed,  but  quite  a  distance  off, 
caught  her  ear.  How  gladly  those  sounds  fell  on 
her  ear.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  rush  to  her  hus- 
band and  throw  her  arms  around  him  and  express 
her  happiness  in  words  of  tender  love  and  ask  his 
forgiveness.  But  no,  that  would  not  be  womanly ; 
it  would  be  too  humiliating,  so  she  simply  said, 
"  What  on  earth  kept  you  so  long?" 

u  I  guess  I  can  stay  just  as  long  as  I  wish  when 
I  go  to  town,"  said  Mark. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  next  morning,  both  Mildred  and  her  hus- 
band were  much  more  attentive  to  the  desires  of 
each  other.  Mildred  indeed  possessed  a  very  ten- 
der love  for  her  husband,  yet  on  account  of  her 
headstrong  disposition  enjoyed  having  her  own 
way.  Mark,  no  doubt,  also  possessed  a  tender  re- 
gard for  the  wishes  of  his  wife,  whom  he  knew  also 
wished  her  own  way;  but  his  was  a  stubborn  will, 
and  when  he  once  said  a  thing  he  meant  it ;  if  he 
said  he  was  going  to  do  a  thing  he  did  it,  and  it 
made  no  difference  what  his  wife  wished  or  cared. 
At  one  time  Mildred  wished  to  attend  a  gathering 
of  young  people.  Now  parties,  sociables  and  pic- 
nics, were  places  Mark  did  not  enjoy.  Mildred 


A   Wife's  and  Husband's  -Mistake.       267 

was  all  excitement  over  the  anticipated  gathering, 
thinking  of  course  Mark  would  go. 

"  Oh,  Mark,  there  is  going  to  be  a  party  at  Mr. 
Hawthorn's,  will  you  not  go  ?" 

"No,"  said  Mark,  "  I  never  enjoy  parties,  and  I 
am  not  going." 

"  Oh,  please  do  go,"  said  Mildred,  "  I  do  so  wish 
to  go.  All  of  the  young  folks  will  be  there." 

"  Well,  it  makes  no  difference  to  me,  I  am  not 
going,  I  do  not  enjoy  parties.  You  can  go  without 
me." 

"Well,  stay  if  you  wish,  I  am  not  going  to  stay 
at  home  like  some  old  woman."  So  off  went  Mil- 
dred, saying  to  herself,  "  dear  me,  I  do  wish  Mark 
would  go,  I  would  so  enjoy  having  him  with  me. 
I  know  I  will  not  have  half  as  good  a  time,  besides 
I  am  so  ashamed  to  be  seen  without  my  husband 
so  soon  after  marriage.  I  expect  I  should  have 
stayed  with  him,  but  I  do  not  intend  to  always 
stay  at  home,  and  just  as  one  begins  they  will  have 
to  do." 

:  Mark  spent  the  evening  at  home  all  alone,  feel- 
ing somewhat  provoked  at  his  wife.  I  do  not  in- 
tend to  be  running  around  to  every  fool  party; 
they  are  no  places  for  me,  besides,  I  intend  to  have 
my  own  way,  thought  Mark.  After  whittling,  and 
whistling  a  somewhat  lonesome  tune,  Mark  retired 
to  bed  and  was  soon  fast  asleep.  Mildred  missed 
her  husband  very  muchv  but  was  determined  not 
to  let  those  present  see  that  she  was  embarrassed 
because  he  was  not  with  her. 


268        A   Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake. 

"  Well,  Mildred,"  said  Nettie  Gleason,  "  where 
is  Mark?" 

"  At  home,  of  course." 

"Oh,  such  a  droll  fellow,  he  never  enjoyed 
young  people's  company;  but  Mildred,  if  I  were 
you  I  would  just  let  him  stay  at  home.  I  would 
not  begin  to  indulge  him  in  having  his  own  way." 

At  this,  Mrs.  Hawthorn,  the  lady  of  the  house 
and  a  person  of  broad  observation,  joined  the  con- 
versation. "Well,  girls,"  said  she,  "I  am  much 
older  than  either  of  you,  and  have  had  a  sad  ex- 
perience in  my  life.  I  would  like  to  say  just  one 
word  here.  There  is  great  danger  in  this  having 
one's  own  way.  I  wouid  advise  this  young  lady 
to  try  and  overlook  the  peculiarities  of  her  hus- 
band, and  try  and  humor  him  all  she  can.  I  tell 
you  there  is  danger  in  having  our  own  way." 

At  this  remark  of  Mrs.  Hawthorn  a  crimson 
flush  passed  over  Mildred's  cheek.  The  party  had 
lost  its  charms  for  her,  and  she  hastily  put  on  her 
wraps  and  excusing  herself  hurried  home.  Her 
husband  was  sleeping  soundly,  so  Mildred  quietly 
crept  in  bed  feeling  half  ashamed  for  leaving  him 
alone.  She  very  much  desired  her  husband's  for- 
giveness, yet  was  too  proud  to  let  him  know  of  her 
anxiety.  How  glad  she  would  have  been  if  he  had 
asked  her  if  she  was  not  sorry.  But  this  Mark 
would  never  do,  so  there  began  to  be  a  little  cold- 
ness springing  up  between  them.  Mark's  business 
was  of  such  a  character  that  he  was  often  called 


A   Wife's  and  Husbands  Mistake.       269 

y 

to  a  distant  city.  He  being  a  fine  business  man, 
made  rapid  bargains,  and  success  in  financial  mat- 
ters was  fast  giving  him  a  good  reputation  as  a 
shrewd  speculator.  Of  course  women  like  Mildred 
felt  very  proud  of  her  husband's  success,  and  at 
first  did  everything  to  encourage  him  on  towards 
making  money.  She  was  very  anxious  to  have  a 
better  home  than  the  one  Mark  had  first  taken  her 
to.  Mark  was  well  satisfied  with  the  plain  home, 
but  his  wife's  proud,  ambitious  disposition  had 
awakened  a  desire  in  him  to  get  money  so  he  could 
supply  her  every  desire.  He  began  at  first  to  buy 
while  away  in  the  city  fine  presents  to  please  his 
wife.  As  soon  as  he  possibly  could  he  built  him 
a  nice,  new  house.  This  was  just  what  Mildred 
desired.  She  now,  more  anxious  than  ever  before, 
began  to  worry,  first  for  one  nice  new  piece  of 
furniture,  and  then  another.  Almost  every  time 
Mark  came  from  the  city  he  brought  home  some 
nice,  new  piece  of  furniture.  But  poor,  silly  Mil- 
dred had  now  become  so  proud  and  foolish  that 
nothing  was  half  nice  enough  for  her. 

"  Why.  Mark,"  she  would  say, "  did  you  get  this, 
it  is  not  just  what  I  wanted,  Mrs.  Dean  has  one 
much  nicer." 

"  Well,  I  thought  this  would  suit  you." 

"  But  it  does  not,"  said  Mildred. 

The  next  time  Mark  went  to  the  city  Mildred 
said,  "now  Mark,  I  want  you  to  get  me  a  new  sec- 
retary. Now,  this  time  I  want  you  to  do  your  best 


270        A    Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake. 

in  the  selection,  for  you  are  so  liable  to  make  mis- 
takes.'' 

"  I  will  do  the  best  I  can,"  said  Mark,  and  so  he 
did. 

"  I  do  hope  this  time  I  can  please  her.  It  does 
seem  to  me  that  nothing  will  suit  her.  Mark  had 
now  become  quite  nervous,  being  continually 
drummed  to  death,  first  about  one  thing  then  an- 
other, and  his  patience  was  nearly  gone,  but  he 
thought  once  again  he  would  try  to  suit  his  wife. 

He  bought  one  of  the  best  secretaries  he  could 
find,  thinking  "surely  this  will  suit  her."  But 
just  as  soon  as  poor,  foolish  Mildred  saw  it,  she 
exclaimed,  "For  mercy  sake!  Why,  Mark,  did 
you  get  this?  It  is  not  what  I  wanted  at  all. 
Dear  me,  I  always  did  hate  a  fool,  and  surely  that 
is  just  what  you  are." 

At  this  Mark  left  the  house  exclaiming,  "  Well, 
after  this  you  must  do  your  own  selecting." 

"  Why  Mildred,"  said  Tinna  Geld,  a  young  lady 
who  was  visiting  at  Mildred's,  and  for  whom 
Mildred  would  have  done  almost  anything,  "  I  am 
sorry  you  spoke  so  to  Mark.  I  saw  it  hurt  him 
very  much,  besides  I  do  not  see  how  you  could  not 
be  pleased.  This  is  surely  0113  of  the  nicest  and 
best  secretaries  I  ever  saw." 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  is,  and  I  am  sorry  too,  but  you 
know  it  is  just  my  way  of  speaking,"  said  Mildred. 

"  Yes,  but  it  will  not  always  do  to  be  so  abrupt." 

Mark  again  soon  went  to  the  city.      He   now 


A   Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake.       271 

began  to  lose  the  love  for  his  home  he  no  doubt 
would  have  felt  had  his  wife  treated  him  more 
tenderly,  and  had  she  tried  harder  to  have  been 
pleased  with  the  things  he  bought  for  her.  While 
away  in  the  city  he  boarded  at  a  fashionable  hotel. 
There  were  ladies  whom  he  associated  with  ;  one, 
a  handsome  young  widow,  who  was  perfectly  infat- 
uated with  the  "  shrewd  young  speculator,"  as  she 
called  Mark.  She  possessed  a  forward  disposition, 
and  did  everything  to  make  a  good  impression 
upon  Mark. 

"Well,  Mr.  Allen,"  said  she,  "you  must  be  very 
lonely  away  from  home.  Why  not  come  into  the 
parlor  and  spend  your  evenings  with  us  ?"  At 
this  request  Mark  smoothed  his  dark  mustache, 
giving  it  an  extra  curl.  As  thoughts  of  Mildred 
at  home  came  into  his  mind,  a  dark  blush  over- 
spread his  handsome  face.  "  But,"  thought  he, 
"  she  does  not  care  for  me,  what  harm  can  there 
be  in  my  spending  the  evening  with  other  ladies? 
I  have  a  mind  of  my  own  and  I  know  it  is  my 
own  business."  So  Mark  passed  the  evening  with 
the  handsome  Mrs.  Dewey.  "  Oh,"  said  she,  "  Mr. 
Allen,  how  perfectly  delighted  I  am  to  have  you 
help  me  drive  dull  care  away." 

"  I  am  so  lonely  away  from  home  and  my  busi- 
ness is  so  I  have  to  spend  my  time  mostly  away 
among  strangers." 

"  It  is  seldom  I  meet  a  person  so  perfectly  enter- 
taining as  you  are  Mr.  Allen." 


272       A  'Wife's  and  Husbands  Mistake. 

Mark  looked  into  her  dark  eyes,  little  dreaming 
of  the  danger  there  was  in  so  doing.  When  the 
night  was  far  spent  and  Mark  was  about  to  take 
his  departure,  why  was  it  that  he  so  tenderly 
pressed  the  hand  so  lovingly  placed  in  his  ? 

"  You  will  surely  call  again,  Mr.  Allen,"  said 
she. 

"  Indeed  I  should  be  pleased  to  do  so,  but  I  have 
business  that  calls  me  home  to-morrow." 

"Oh  please  wait  just  one  more  day;  please,  I 
am  so  lonely,"  said  the  dashing  widow. 

Again  taking  her  hand  which  she  now  extended 
in  a  very  affectionate  way,  Mark  answered,  "If  it 
is  possible  I  may  stay  just  one  day  longer." 

As  Mark  went  to  his  room  he  could  not  help 
thinking  of  his  wife  at  home  whom  he  knew 
would  be  greatly  displeased  if  she  knew  of  his 
spending  his  evenings  with  another  lady.  "  But," 
thought  he,  "she  will  never  know  it,  and  what 
harm  can  there  be  in  passing  the  time  as  pleas- 
antly as  possible?  But  I  guess  I  had  better  go 
home  to  morrow.  I  know  Mildred  will  be  very 
anxious  about  me,  but  she  is  so  disagreeable  I  can 
hardly  stand  it  with  her.  Still  she  is  my  wife,  she 
works  hard  and  keeps  everything  nice  and  tidy. 
But  her  everlasting  tongue  I  just  despise.  If  she 
could  only  be  pleasant  and  cheerful  like  Mrs. 
Dewey.  But  she  naturally  has  such  an  unpleas- 
ant disposition,  I  expect  she  cannot  help."  The 
next  morning  Mark  arose,  feeling  a  desire  to  go 


A    Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake.       273 

home.  He  knew  very  well  it  was  the  place  for 
him,  but  thoughts  of  the  handsome  young  widow 
were  constantly  before  him.  Oh,  how  perfectly 
charming  is  her  company,  if  Mildred  was  only 
half  so  agreeable  he  felt  that  he  should  be  glad  to 
go  home.  As  the  hours  passed  quickly  by  he  said 
to  himself,  "  I  never  cared  so  much  about  staying 
away  from  home  before,  but  Mildred  is  so  unpleas- 
ant that  I  dread  to  go  home,  and  I  can  stay  just  as 
well  as  not.  What  harm  can  there  be  when  I  can 
pass  the  evening  so  pleasantly  here?  So  he  staid 
and  again  spent  the  evening  in  the  parlor  with 
Mrs.  Dewey.  How  quickly  the  hours  passed  away ! 
Mrs.  Dewey  was  one  of  those  dashing  women 
who  flatters  with  her  tongue,  and  drags  men  down 
to  the  gates  of  hell.  She  knew  from  the  first  that 
Mark  greatly  admired  her.  She  also  knew  that 
he  was  just  the  one  to  draw  on  by  her  cunning 
devices.  He  had  plenty  of  money  and  was  away 
from  home  and  lonely.  She  being  a  fine  musician 
stepped  to  the  piano,  and  as  her  skillful  fingers 
swept  the  keys  of  the  instrument,  and  her  child- 
like voice  floated  through  the  room  on  the  mid- 
night air,  from  the  impulse  of  the  moment  or  a 
spell  he  could  not  overcome,  Mark  sprang  to  her 
side  and  caught  her  frail  form  in  his  arms  and 
kissed  her  ruby  lips  over  and  over  again,  pressed 
her  to  his  heart,  and  then  recovering  for  a  moment 
he  thought,  "  My  God  !  what  have  I  done  ?"  But 
it  was  too  late.  The  spell  he  could  not  break,  and 
iS 


274        A    Wife's  and  Husband?*  Mistake. 

he  held  1he  willing,  beguiling,  treacherous  woman 
to  his  heart.  u  My  blessed  Savior,"  breathed  he, 
"  what  have  I  done  ?  But  it  is  too  late ;  my  heart 
belongs  to  this  handsome  woman." 

We  will  leave  them  alone  with  their  guilt. 

This  very  night  Mark  i'ell  as  deep  in  sin  as  it  is 
possible  for  a  married  man  to  fall  in  pressing  a 
strange  woman  to  his  breast. 

At  Mark  Allen's  home  there  was  a  different 
scene.  Mildred  walked  the  floor  and  wrung  her 
hands  with  grief  for  there  seemed  to  come  to  her 
some  awful  forebodings  of  evil.  "  Why,  oh  why, 
does  Mark  not  come  ?"  Tears  streamed  down  her 
blanched  cheeks.  Oh,  that  her  unborn  babe  that 
knew  so  little  of  its  mother's  grief,  was  born,  to 
bring  new  charms  to  the  home  of  this  unhappy 
wife  and  husband.  But  before  the  little  one  ever 
opened  its  eyes  to  behold  the  light  of  this  beauti- 
ful world,  the  young  mother  was  so  overcome  with 
grief  and  anxiety  and  her  nervous  system  became 
so  exhausted  and  weak,  that  while  Mark  was 
absent  on  one  of  his  long  visits  to  the  city,  enjoy- 
ing the  society  of  the  strange  woman,  she  gave 
premature  birth  to  her  little  one.  Kind  hands  of 
loving  friends  dressed  the  little  one  for  its  long 
resting  place.  Poor  Mildred  pressed  the  little 
form  of  her  dead  baby  to  her  breast  and  said,  "  Oh, 
if  Mark  would  only  come !"  But  he  now  had  fal- 
len so  low  that  he  did  not  care  anything  at  all  for 
his  home,  often  staying  weeks,  and  sometimes 


A   Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake.        275 

months,  always  making  an  excuse  that  it  was 
business  detained  him.  Upon  this  occasion  it  was 
impossible  to  find  him,  so  the  little  one  was  quietly 
laid  to  rest  in  the  cemetery  near  Mildred's  home. 
Mildred's  life  was  almost  despaired  of  for  some 
time.  When  Mark  returned  home  he  felt  very 
much  displeased  with  his  wife.  He  said  she  had 
no  business  to  worry  about  him  ;  she  might  have 
known  he  was  able  to  lake  care  of  himself,  and  he 
hardly  went  into  the  room  to  see  her.  Mildred 
was  so  weak  and  exhausted  she  could  scarcely 
raise  her  head,  but  so  glad  to  see  her  husband  that 
when  he  came  near  her  she  begged  him  to  come 
to  her.  She  took  his  hand  in  hers  and  drew  him 
to  her  and  kissed  him  over  and  over  again.  Mark 
looked  at  his  once  beautiful  wife,  but  now  her 
beauty  was  faded  and  gone.  He  stooped  down 
and  kissed  her  pale  lips,  but  all  love  for  his  faded 
wife  was  gone.  He  thought  only  of  the  beautiful, 
charming  young  widow  who  had  won  his  heart. 
So  he  soon  made  an  excuse  that  his  business  was 
such  he  must  go  to  the  city  again. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Mildred  slowly  recovered  so  as  to  be  able  to  sit 
up  for  a  little  while  at  a  time,  but  there  was  a 
loneliness  hovering  around  her  she  could  not  shake 
off.  Her  husband  now  hardly  ever  came  home  to 
stay  more  than  one  or  two  days  at  a  time,  and 


276        A   'Wife's  and  Husbands  Mistake. 

when  he  did  he  was  so  cross  and  absent-minded 
that  he  was  no  company  for  her  at  all.  Poor  Mil- 
dred knew  that  his  love  for  her  was  gone,  and  she 
tried  in  every  way  possible  to  win  him  back,  but 
it  was  impossible  for  her  to  do  so.  She  was  so 
weak  and  discouraged  that  life  was  a  burden. 
Gladly  would  she  have  given  her  life  for  the  love 
of  her  companion.  She  spent  hours  and  hours  at 
home  alone.  Her  mental  suffering  was  so  great, 
and  her  nervous  system  so  racked,  that  in  an  hour 
of  despondency  she  tried  to  take  her  own  life. 
Every  little  thing  annoyed  her  husband.  Their 
beautiful  and  well  ordered  home  had  no  attrac- 
tion for  him.  He  had  fallen  so  low  that  he  would 
tell  his  friends  that  their  home  for  him  was  a  pan- 
demonium. The  servants  annoyed  him  and  had  no 
patience  with  any  one  or  anything.  At  every  little 
annoyance  he  would  curse  and  swear  so  that  Mil- 
dred was  constantly  in  fear  that  something  would 
displease  him.  He  now  scarcely  ever  spoke  a  kind 
word  to  his  wife,  and  appeared  to  fairly  hate  the 
very  sight  of  her.  One  day  some  little  thing  hap- 
pened to  annoy  him,  and  he  rushed  to  the  house, 
hardly  dressed  himself,  and  started  away.  Mil- 
dred, very  much  frightened,  and  hardly  daring  to 
speak,  followed  him  to  the  door  and  said,  "  Mark, 
where  are  you  going?" 

"  It  makes  no  difference  to  you,  where  I  am 
going.  You  go  into  the  house  and  min.d  your  own 
business.  You  always  wanted  to  run  things,  and 


A   Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake.        277 

now  you  can  have  the  privilege."  Mildred  sank 
half  fainting  to  the  floor.  She  felt  that  the  climax 
had  been  reached.  She  felt  a  foreboding  of  some 
awful  calamity  she  could  not  tell  what.  Alone, 
faint  and  sick,  she  wept  until  tears  failed  to  come. 
With  a  ghastly  look  and  racked  brain,  she 
arose  from  the  floor,  wrung  her  hands,  and  a  look 
of  despair  overspread  her  face.  Then  she  gradually 
sank  into  a  long  nervous  sick-spell.  The  name  of 
her  husband  was  constantly  on  her  lips  as  she 
rolled  in  wild  delirium  on  her  bed. 

At  the  depot  Mark  took  the  first  train  west, 
telling  some  of  his  friends  that  he  was  going  to 
leave  home  never  to  return. 

"Why,"  said  a  friend,  a  man  who  had  known 
Mildred  from  her  babyhood,  "  you  must  surely  go 
back  home  and  tell  your  wife  what  you  are  going 
to  do.  It  will  kill  her  to  leave  her  so." 

"  No,  I  am  not  going  back.  My  home  is  a  hell 
for  me,  and  I  hope  I  will  never  see  it  again."  So 
the  fast  express  soon  bore  him  many  miles  from 
his  home. 

Mildred's  friends  and  neighbors,  as  soon  as  they 
had  heard  what  Mark  had  done,  and  that  he  was 
gone,  came  to  her  assistance.  They  very  kindly 
and  gently  sympathized  with  her.  They  tried  to 
make  her  believe  that  her  husband  would  soon 
return.  They  did  every  thing  to  restore  her  to 
life  again. 

Oh,  how  Mildred  prayed  to  die.    Life  without 


278         A   Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake. 

her  husband  was  a  misery.  But  as  it  is  not  always 
possible  for  one  to  die  when  they  most  want  to, 
Mildred  slowly  recovered  ;  her  frail  nature  could 
stand  more  than  one  would  think.  But  she  merely 
lived  because  she  could  not  die;  her  home  had 
forever  lost  its  charms  to  her.  She  constantly 
thought,  uis  Mark  living,  or  is  he  dead?  " 

As  soon  as  Mark  was  far  enough  from  home  so 
that  he  supposed  no  one  would  know  what  he  was 
doing,  he  sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter  to  the  dash- 
ing Mrs.  Dewey,  as  follows:  "I  cannot  live  with- 
out you.  Come  to  me,  and  we  will  go  to  a  distant 
city  and  pass  the  remainder  of  our  lives  together." 
Mrs.  Dewey  was  very  much  pleased.  She  thought, 
"  this  is  a  good  chance  for  me.  Mr.  Allen  has  lots 
of  money,  and  I  can  spend  my  life  in  ease."  She 
hastily  arranged  her  wardrobe,  dressed  in  gorgeous 
array,  and  set  sail  for  her  distant  lover. 

Mark,  after  securing  large,  spacious  rooms. to  re- 
ceive his  unlawful  paramour,  anxiously  awaited 
her  arrival.  The  artful,  treacherous  woman  well 
knew  how  to  beguile  him.  As  long  as  Mark's 
money  lasted  they  were  apparently  happy.  He 
did  everthing  for  this  deceitful  woman  that  money 
could  do.  Dressed  her  in  the  most  gorgeous  cloth- 
ing, and  hired  servants  of  the  most  obedient  kind, 
so  that  her  fair  jeweled  hands  should  keep  their 
snowy  whiteness.  But  as  it  is  impossible  for  those 
who  doeth  evil  to  prosper  :  Romans,  13-4  :  But  if 
thou  do  that  which  is  evil,  be  afraid ;  for  he  bear- 


A    Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake.       279 

ethjiot  the  sword  in  vain  ;  for  he  is  the  minister  of 
God,  a  revenger  to  execute  wrath  upon  him  that 
doeth  evil.''  Mark  soon  found  that  his  money  was 
fast  going  to  the  four  winds.  He  of  course  had 
access  to  the  home  which  Mildred  and  he  had 
worked  so  hard  to  make  beautiful,  but  having  a 
little  spark  of  the  feelings  left  which  he  once 
possessed,  he  could  not  bear  to  think  of  mortgaging 
the  home  where  he  had  left  Mildred.  Neither 
could  he  dare  to  tell  the  dashing  Mrs.  Dewey  that 
his  money  was  nearly  gone.  Then  he  began  to 
run  in  debt  here  and  there,  at  every  place  possible 
where  he  could  get  money.  At  last  the  crisis 
came.  Nobody  would  let  him  have  one  more  cent. 
What  to  do  he  did  not  know.  At  last  things  got 
into  such  shape  that  he  had  to  make  known  to  the 
treacherous  woman  that  they  would  have  to  dis- 
pense with  their  servants.  At  this  announcement 
the  gay  woman  said,  "c  you  need  not  think  I  will 
stay  with  you  if  your  money  is  gone.  There  are 
too  many  men  just  like  you,  whose  wealth  I  am 
perfectly  free  to  enjoy  if  I  but  say  the  word,  so 
either  mortgage  youf  home,  and  get  money,  or 
else  say  good-by  to  me  forever."  This  guilty 
woman  had  got  such  control  over  Mark  that  he 
would  spend  the  last  cent  he  had  in  the  world  to 
satisfy  her  extravagant  desires.  So  he  mortgaged 
his  beautiful  home  where  Mildred  was,  and  again 
for  many  mouths  he  gratified  every  desire  of  the 
vain  woman. 


280        A   Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake. 

Poor  Mildred,  when  notified  that  their  home, 
their  once  beautiful  and  happy  home,  would  soon 
pass  into  the  hands  of  others,  rallied  to  the  emer- 
gency. Having  some  money  left  her  by  her  father, 
she  said,  "  I  cannot  give  up  the  dear  old  home." 
Suffering  the  most  awful  mental  pain,  almost  to 
distraction,  she  worked  and  toiled,  taking  care  of 
the  horses,  cattle,  hogs,  assisted  only  by  a  young 
boy  and  girl.  Oh,  she  would  say,  "  I  must  save 
the  home,  for  may  be  Mark  will  sometime  come 
back  to  me."  Tears  would  stream  down  her  faded 
cheeks,  and  long  into  the  wee  small  hours  of  the 
night  would  she  walk  the  floor,  and  watch  the 
clock,  and  think,  "oh,  if  he  would  only  come  home 
to  me,  I  would  forgive  him  for  all.  Will  he  never 
come?" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

As  soon  as  Mark's  money  was  gone,  the  heart- 
less wicked  Mrs.  Dewey  began  to  accept  the  atten 
tion  of  other  wealthy  men.  This  almost  distracted 
Mark.  In  his  sober  moments  he  would  say,  "Oh, 
if  I  had  not  been  so  stubborn,  and  had  humored 
the  peculiar  disposition  of  my  own  dear  wife,  I 
now  might  be  happy;  but  I  have  forsaken  my 
wife,  my  unborn  child,  home  and  honor,  all  are 
gone,  and  now,  when  my  money  is  all  spent,  she 
turns  from  me;  this  Mildred  would  never  have 
done.  Why,  oh  why,  did  I  not  see  before  it  was 
too  late  ?"  "  But,"  stamping  his  foot  down,  "  I  will 


A   Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake.       281 

yet  have   my  revenge  on  this  woman  who  has 
wrought  my  ruin." 

Mark  had  now  fallen  so  low  that  he  began  to 
frequent  different  houses  of  ill  fame,  and  although 
almost  loathing  the  inmates,  yet  dissipation  had 
brought  him  so  low  that  all  self-respect  was  gone. 
One  night  as  he  was  wandering  through  one  of  the 
streets  in  Chicago,  and  was  passing  one  of  the 
gilded  dens  of  infamy  which  rob  men  of  all  self- 
respect  and  blast  all  their  hopes  of  eternity,  he 
saw  the  wicked  Mrs.  Dewey  clasped  in  the  arms  of 
a  red,  bloated-faced  man,  whom  he  knew  to  be  a 
millionaire.  This  so  enraged  the  half-crazy  Mark 
that  he  rushed  into  the  house,  caught  the  wicked 
woman  by  the  hair,  and  was  dragging  her  out  of  the 
room,  when,  quick  as  thought,  the  burly,  red-faced 
man  drew  a  revolver  and  fired,  accidentally  pierc- 
ing the  wicked  woman  through  the  heart,  and  in- 
flicting a  mortal  wound  in  Mark's  breast.  For  a  few 
moments  everything  was  excitement.  The  burly, 
cowardly,  red  faced  man,  as  soon  as  he  saw  what  he 
had  done,  fled.  In  a  few  moments  the  police  were 
summoned  and  poor  Mark  was  taken  to  a  hospital 
near  by,  the  blood  pouring  from  his  breast.  His 
past  life  unrolled  like  a  scroll  before  his  gaze.  His 
quiet,  beautiful  country  home;  his  faithful,  al- 
though peculiar  wife ;  the  one  he  had  sworn  to 
honor  and  love  above  all  others,  came  up  before 
his  dying  gaze.  The  skillful  surgeon  knew  the 
wound  was  of  such  a  nature  that  Mark  must  die. 
'9 


282        A    Wife's  and  Husband's  Mistake. 

"  Tell  me  true,"  said  Mark,  "  must  I  die  ?" 

"  You  are  mortally  wounded,"  said  the  surgeon. 
"Have  you  no  friends  you  would  like  to  see?" 

"Yes,"  said  Mark,  as  the  blood  ran  from  the 
wound,  "  send  for  my  wife"  whom  I  have  for- 
saken. I  know  she  will  come;  send  for  her." 

As  quickly  as  the  message  could  be  written  it 
was  sent  over  the  wire,  "  Come  to  Chicago,  to  No. 
—  street,  for  I  am  dying.  Mark." 

Poor  Mildred  did  not  stop  to  arrange  any  costly 
wardrobe,  but  with  faded  face  and  plain  attire,went 
as  fast  as  the  fast  express  could  carry  her  to  the 
bedside  of  her  dying  husband. 

Poor  Mark,  as  soon  as  she  arrived,  held  up  his 
hands,  saying :  u  forgive  me,  I  am  dying." 

As  Mildred  folded  her  dying  husband  in  her 
arms,  she  wet  his  face  with  tears.  .She  held  him 
long  in  her  arms  and  prayed  that  God  would  tor- 
give  them  both.  Kneeling  by  his  bed  she  poured 
out  her  soul  in  prayer,  and  as  tears  streamed  down 
her  poor,  pale  cheek-;,  Mark  said:  "  Hark!  the  an- 
gels are  calling  me  !  Oh  my  Savior  is  so  precious 
to  me !  I  hear  his  gentle  voice  !  I  am  forgiven  !" 
and  thus  he  died. 

As  soon  as  arrangements  could  be  made,  Mildred 
with  the  remains  of  her  husband,  started  to  their 
own  country  home.  Friends  were  notified.  But 
true  to  her  womanly  instincts,  Mildred  knew  it 
would  do  no  good,  that  the  true  cause  of  her  hus- 
band's murder  should  be  known,  so  she  only  said 


A   Wife's  and  Husbands  Mistake.       283 

that  he  was  shot  by  some  unknown  man,  who  fled 
as  soon  as  he  had  committed  the  crime. 

Mildred  had  the  casket  that  contained  the  re- 
mains of  her  once  beloved  husband  taken  to  their 
own  spacious  house,  and  surrounded  by  weeping 
friends  the  last  sad  rite  was  said ;  then  Mark  was 
quietly  laid  to  rest  in  the  cemetery  near  his  home. 

The  wicked  Mrs.  Dewey,  who  had  forsaken  her 
own  purity  and  virtue  and  wasted  her  youth  and 
beauty;  who  had  broken  up  homes  that  might 
have  been  happy,  and  lived  in  wickedness  with 
men  whom  she  cared  nothing  for,  only  to  get  their 
money,  was  taken,  as  soon  as  a  rough  box  was  pro- 
cured, and  without  one  friend  to  shed  a  tear,  was 
buried  in  the  potter's  field. 

Mildred,  although  her  heart  was  broken,  and  her 
confidence  in  humanity  gone,  yet  the  God  who 
had  sustained  her  during  every  earthly  sorrow  was 
still  her  God,  and  she  found  his  words  true,  "I  will 
be  a  father  to  the  fatherless,  and  the  widow's 
Qod? 


A     000115179 


